


Spideypool Goes North

by Four_Nostril



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Harm to Animals, Huddling For Warmth, Humor, Identity Reveal, Limericks, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Pregnancy, Sexual Humor, Singing, Stan Lee Cameo, Threesome, Time Travel, Vikings, Wet Dream, inappropriate use of mittens, not mpreg, Æsir | Aesir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 26,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Four_Nostril/pseuds/Four_Nostril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spider-Man and Deadpool falls through time, crashing close to a viking village. It's cold and dangerous, but they've got each other. Right?<br/>Smut, cultural misunderstandings, and bad puns.<br/>Art by RED FLARE, PETIMETREK, AZHERWIND, and nsfw art by XEBREDIPS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Did We Get Here?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/gifts), [yeaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/gifts).



 

Spider-Man opened his eyes and did not know where he was. He was flat on his back, his neck hurt and everything was quiet. The sky was white above him, and the ground under his back was cold. Having woken up from passing out many times before, Spider-man knew better than to get up too fast. He stayed still and tried to figure out where he was. He turned his head a bit to the left, and saw more white. Miles of white ice with a thin layer of snow on it, stretching out and meeting the white sky at the horizon. He heard a seagull. A copy of "USA Today" fluttered by. He tried to remember …

 

*******

 

He was standing on a rooftop in Queens in the early evening, and it had been a busy and frustrating day. Nothing big, just a bunch of small, annoying problems that had gotten on Spider-Man's nerves and made him want to punch something that deserved punching. So when Deadpool showed up, it was a relief. That guy never failed to be punch-worthy, and he could take it without lasting damage.

"Hey, Spider-butt! How's my favourite arthropod this evening?"

"Not in the mood. Go away, Deadpool." Spider-Man answered, but he hoped he wouldn't. And of course he didn't.

"KimPossible, Spidey. Your fine ass looks like solid iron, and Magneto just lent me this magnetic right hand glove that can not help being attracted to it." he said, holding up his – obviously ordinary – gloved hand in the air. He pretended to struggle with in, catching it with his left hand around the wrist, getting closer and closer to Spider-Mans butt. "Nooo!" he yelled. "Spare the virtue of the most adorable rump in New York!"

Spider-Man stood still at the edge of the roof, arms crossed, ignoring Deadpool's show behind his back. _If he smacks my butt, I'm punching him. If he grabs it, I'm tossing him off the roof._ He even selected a pile of cardboard boxes he would aim for. After all, he didn't really want to HURT Deadpool, he just wanted a punching bag. Deadpool came closer and closer, pulling with all his strength to stop his right hand from touching the blue spandex surface.

"It's too strong! There is no escape!" Deadpool yelled, as his hand was now only an inch away from it's target.

Spider-Man waited, his whole body tense, his hand already a fist. As soon as he felt that touch he would … but not before he felt it. The wait was longer than expected, as Deadpool was now struggling to stand up right behind Spider-Man, panting and gasping in his pretend fight with himself, his hand getting closer. Spider-Man stood extra still. He didn't want to back into the hand and make it his own fault. If he was going to punch Deadpool, he needed justification. _Come on, just do it already! Smack it, grab it, do something!_ Spider-Man felt impatient and wanted to lash out with force, but Deadpool still kept a thin layer of air between his hand and Spider-Man's ass. The distance was now so tiny that Spider-Man imagined he could feel the heat from the palm radiating against his skin. He wanted the touch so bad now; he had to make an effort not to arch back into it. _Touch it touch it touch it touch it …  
_

Spider-Man had his eyes closed under the mask, waiting. Deadpool was suddenly silent behind him.

"Um … Spidey? Is it just me or is there a mass panic over there?"

 

People were screaming, trash was blowing about in strong winds. Six black cloudy funnels, each about the size of a person, were moving erratically on 48th street and Queens Blvd. Captain America was standing in the middle of the sucking storm, directing people away from the street.

"All right, everybody, avoid the vortexes, we don't know where they lead. Hold on to something stable and we'll try to shut them down as soon as possible!" he said, throwing his shield through one of the funnels and cutting it in half.

Spider-Man and Deadpool were down on the street in a split second and Spider-man started webbing people to the asphalt so they wouldn't get sucked in. Deadpool was shooting at the closest funnel, but with little result. The funnel got closer and caught a grey Volvo that disappeared with a slurping noise. Deadpool drew his katanas and started hacking at the funnel base.

"Yikes!" he yelled. Deadpool's cry caught Spider-Man's attention, and he turned around to see the mercenary going down the funnel feet first, still hacking. Spider-Man shot webs to catch his arms and then …

 

*********

_Then what?_

Spider-Man could not remember anything after that. He was still on his back on the ice and the seagull was circling over him. The bird landed next to the newspaper and started picking at some wet french fries. Spider-Man sat up without fainting. He still had web attached to his wrists, so he hadn't been unconscious for long, or it would have dissolved. Encouraged by the success, he decided to stand up. The web was connected to Deadpool's two arms, torn off at the shoulders.

 _Oh shit, that is horrible. What did I do? Where is the rest of him?_ Spider-Man looked around. Ice in every direction, small spruce-covered islands in the distance. Typical New York trash littering the white snow, and a grey Volvo stuck halfway into the water underneath, trunk first. The seagull had called for his friends, and they descended on the bloody arms.

"Oh hell no! Shoo!" Spider-Man said, scaring them away. When their cawing went away, he could hear singing.

"♪♬Cold cold heart … hard done by you … some things looking better baby … just passing thruuuuu …♪♬"

"Deadpool? Where are you?"

"No blooping idea. Between a rock and a hard place and can't see shit."

Spider-Man walked towards the Volvo and looked inside. Empty. He looked behind it, also no Deadpool.

"Keep talking." he said.

"I think that's the first time you asked me to do that, Spidey. Any requests?" Deadpool's voice was close but he still couldn't see him.

"Do you have any idea where you might be?" Spider-Man checked the trash but there was nothing big enough to hide the bulk of the muscular mercenary.

"Well, I can't feel my legs, and when I wet my pants a minute ago they didn't get wetter." he said. Spider-Man walked back to the Volvo and finally saw a glimpse of a red suit. Wedged between the car and the broken ice was Deadpool's head, the mask awry and covering his eyes, and a severed shoulder. The rest of him was under the ice – at least Spider-Man hoped it was. He reached down and adjusted the mask so Deadpool could see.

Deadpool was truly stuck. He couldn't get any leverage with his legs deep down in the water, he didn't have any arms, and trying to get a Volvo off your back is hard work no matter how many core-strengthening exercises you've done. Spider-Man considered lifting the car straight out - he could have done it - but he figured Deadpool wasn't worth the effort. Instead, he broke more ice around the car, and rocked it back and forth (Deadpool insisting that it was 'fine' despite more blood gushing out), until it finally sunk to the bottom of the sea and left a gaping hole. Spider-Man pulled Deadpool's wet body away from it all the way over to where his severed arms lay waiting for their owner to return.

"This would be a great moment for a nap and a cuddle, but I'm freezing my toes off." Deadpool said, trying to reattach his limbs. "Besides, it's getting dark soon." He pointed to a spot in the white sky where a pale sun was barely visible behind the cloud layer, and it was close to the horizon.

"I suppose that since there are seagulls, we are still on earth." said Spider-Man. "Which means the sun still sets in the west, and it looks as if there are islands in that direction."

"♪♬Go weeeeest, life is peaceful there, go weeeest, in the open air . . . ♪♬"

"Shut up and walk."

*************

[ ](http://s36.photobucket.com/user/Four-Nostril/media/spidey_zpsdfdthmqq.jpg.html)

Art by [Red Flare](http://red-flare.tumblr.com/).

 


	2. A Place To Stay

*************

Spider-Man couldn't recall ever having been this cold before. The arms and feet of his thin suit were wet with brackish water, snow crunched under his feet and there was a slight breeze. He was not dressed for winter weather at all, it had been summer in New York when they left. _Just how did we leave? And where are we now?_ He shivered and stumbled. His phone was silent, with no reception, no gps positioning, and no maps. That scared him more than he wanted to admit. If it had been broken, then okay, but this was different. It still functioned as a clock, so he knew they had been walking for three hours. The only thing that kept them on their feet was the fact that they had spotted a light on the coast. It had become visible as the sky got darker. They were now coming close to a small island jutting out of the ice. It was the size of a city block and had some crooked pine trees struggling to eke out a living in the small amount of soil filling the crevices. It was probably exposed to waves and winds in the summers since the cliffs were washed clean. It didn't look inviting.

"What do you think, do we build a shelter here or can we make it to the light?" Spider-Man asked.

"♪♬Should I stay or should I go now, if I go there will be trouuuble, if I stay it will be douuuble …♪♬" Deadpool sang. Spider-Man lost his temper.

"NO! SHUT UP! NO MORE SINGING! This is serious! This is probably no big deal for you, but for me this is a question of if I can survive the night or not!" Spider-Man sat down in the snow and started to cry. "I don't want to die here … I don't even know where we are … and what would aunt May say … I don't …"

Deadpool sat down and pulled the shivering young man closer. There was ice in the seams of his suit, and he was almost as cold as Spider-Man was. He pulled a damp handkerchief from a pouch and held it under Spider-Man's nose in a very motherly gesture that means 'blow your nose' in every language.

Spider-Man couldn't help but laugh a little. He had tears and snot inside his mask and would really like a handkerchief right now.

"Thank you." he said, and wiped his face under the mask. "Sorry for yelling like that."

"Eh, what's a little breakdown between frenemies? Besides, you're right and I'm a stupid mess as always. I'm not sure I've ever died from freezing. Mebbe I did but who knows? Not me, that's for sure. Fuck, it feels like I got a handjob from Elsa. Besides, Spidey, which one did you think was hotter, Elsa, Anna or Kristoff? Please don't say Hans, the 'attractive villain' trope is overdone."

"Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about." Spider-Man answered. "But if we ever get home I'll find out, I promise. So what do you think about our choice?"

"We would be the coolest museum display ever, standing right next to a defrosted woolly mammoth!"

"Our choice?" Spider-Man repeated.

Deadpool squinted at the small dot of light on the coast, as if trying to measure the distance with his eyes. Spider-Man looked at his concentrated face. _Is this going to be the last person I see before I die? Never expected that. All right, maybe I did expect that. But if so, I would have thought it would have been his fault. Maybe this IS his fault. No, it's not his fault that I tried to save him. So I die tonight because I made a stupid, rash decision. It figures._

"I say we go towards the light."

"Hey Deadpool."

"Yeah?"

Spider-Man pulled off his mask and looked at Deadpool.

"My name is Peter Parker. " Deadpool jumped up as if he had been stabbed.

"Oh hey, no … Spider-Man … Peter … you'll live. This is not a deathbed situation. You didn't have to unmask … your eyes are brown … good grief you're a hottie." He shook his head vigorously. "Put the mask back on, we rewind the VHS tape and record over this bit. Come on, I'll forget your name is Peter, it's easy!" Deadpool took out a gun and aimed it at his own temple. Peter grabbed his arm to stop him.

"DON'T DO THAT! I know your name is Wade Wilson, so it's only fair."

"Everybody knows THAT." Deadpool seemed intent on making a large hole in his mental circuits. Peter didn't want to break his arm off twice in one day. The craziness made Deadpool stronger and Peter had to make an effort to restrain him. He had grabbed Deadpool from the front and slowly got the mercenary's arms down and bent behind his back and now he held them there. Deadpool's chest was huge and Peter had to get right up against it or else he wouldn't reach around him. He practically hugged the huge man. When he felt Deadpool's arms relax a little, he moved his long fingers down the muscular arm and tapped at the wrist until Deadpool dropped the gun.

"Don't shoot yourself. I need you." Peter said slowly, his hot breath forming a cloud in the cold air, enveloping their faces in a tiny fog.

"Wha … "

"I mean … I need you to help me. I won't survive this without you."

"Right. Yes. Help Spider-Petey. Abso-fucking-lutely. Let's go!"

*******

After two more hours, they were close enough to the shore to see that the light came from a gathering of low houses and was flickering in a way that meant that it was probably not electric.

"Houses means no mammoths." Spider-Man said.

"Well, poop. I had my young heart all set on that."

Their feet were so cold that it felt like they were walking on wooden legs. After another half hour, they stepped up from the ice onto a wooden jetty. The cold strangers were soon spotted by two large grey dogs that ran towards them barking like hell had broken loose. Deadpool pulled out a firearm but didn't fire.

"You're not going to shoot them, are you?" Spider-Man said.

"Not for doing their watchdog job and barking, no. If they go for the throat, yes." Deadpool answered. But the dogs were good at their job. Doors opened at once, and as soon as the people living there stepped out, the dogs considered their work done and ran inside, tails wagging. The two cold men were ushered inside the largest building, which was warm and smelled of smoke. The fires on the long hearth in the middle of the room were the only source of light, and Spider-Man had never seen a house like this before.

"Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Deadpool said.

"Since we walked across the frozen SEA for over FIVE HOURS I think it's pretty obvious that we were never in Kansas." Spider-Man said.

The hope that he might actually survive this had done wonders for his ability to quip. An old woman wrapped them in blankets, put them down on a low bench close to the fire and they soon had a hot mug of something in their hands. Not caring what it was as long as it was warmer than he was, Spider-Man downed the contents fast. _Some sort of chicken broth with oatmeal? Whatever._ Deadpool was nursing the mug in his hands, hesitant to show even half his face among strangers. Strangers that were vikings.

*******

House reference from [Världens Historia](http://varldenshistoria.se/civilisationer/vikingar/bonden-var-den-verklige-vikingen), viking house interior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What, you thought I could afford commissioned fanart for every chapter?  
> No, but for some.


	3. Chicken Soup

*********

They had arrived late, and children were already sleeping. Despite the dim light, Spider-Man could see their heads sticking out under blankets and pelts, three or four in each cot. There were twenty or so men and women in the house, and chickens sat on the sooty beams under the roof. The house consisted of one long room only, at the end of which stood a large chair, almost a throne, but no one was sitting in it. Spider-Man, with manners that would have made aunt May proud, was already looking for a host to thank for this hospitality. He didn't have to look for long, as there was no doubt that the woman approaching them was in charge. Her posture and face made Spider-Man feel like he was back in school. He had seen that look before, a perpetual pissed-off look that you could find on tired teachers at the end of the school year. The angry eyebrows, the slight frown and the tight-lipped mouth that indicated they had experienced enough bullshit to last them a lifetime and if you were going to claim that 'the dog deleted my Google Classroom app' it would be the last straw. She was heavily pregnant and wore an elaborate braided hairstyle. Deadpool had pulled the blanket over his head and was drinking his soup under it.

 

"Welcome, foreginers, to the hall" she said. Her posture made it obvious that this was only because it was polite to say so, and she didn't elaborate. She glanced over them both and seemed to take in every little detail. "Any injuries we need to treat?"

"No thank you, ma'am, no injuries" Spider-Man answered. The title just came out of his mouth by its own accord.

"Frostbite?"

"Probably not, I'm sure we'll be fine. Thank you for letting us in. We'll be warm soon."

The woman lifted an eyebrow in doubt. She reached down to touch Spider-Man's right foot, and lifted it off the floor where it had left a wet mark. "Hmpf." She spoke to a gaunt old man with a white mustache and a miscievious smile. "Make some wrapped hot stones for the guests and put them under their feet." The old man made a show of his creaking back and weak legs, but once he was up he swiftly bundled up some stones off the hearth in rags and carried two in each hand without any difficulty.

"I have not seen clothes like yours before, but it could be a ruse. You need to take your face hoods off, I want to be sure I'm not inviting my husband's enemies to the table."

Spider-Man was half exposed already and figured she was right. He pulled the rest of his mask off and stood up to shake her hand. He didn't know where – or when – they were, but it felt like a secret identity was not a big deal tonight. Deadpool hesitated, still sitting hunched under the blanket. Peter knew why, but there wasn't much he could do. He had seen half of Deadpool's face a few times. Deadpool took off his gloves slowly to give her a chance to back down. She noticed the skin but still looked resolute. Still hunched under the blanket and turned so only she could see him, he continued with the mask and peeled it backwards. She flinched, and scrunched up her eyebrows even more. The three were silent for a moment. Peter hoped she wouldn't overreact, Wade was more sensitive about his looks than most people would expect.

"You look like a man who is no longer afraid of death." she finally said. "Was it fire or lye?"

"I'm gonna go with C: none of the above, ma'am." Wade said.

"So a curse, then? I am the wife, my name is Gunnlod."

"No kidding? I bet everybody else ran away screaming when you got that invite!" Wade said. Gunnlod got a small twitch of a smile on her lips before going back to the frown that was her default face. She turned away and told some boys to move over to free two cots for the guests.

"What did you mean?" Peter whispered.

"Her [name means](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gunnl%C3%B6%C3%B0) 'invitation to battle'." Wade whispered back. "And before you ask how I knew that - yes because your face gives it away - I looked it up once because it's a really cool name - I mean cool as ME - and I was going to use it as my moniker online. Turns out it's a girls name. I still used it of course."

Sitting in front of the fire soon dried Spider-Man's suit. He suspected that Deadpool's thicker fabric was probably still damp, but he knew better than to suggest he take it off. Deadpool had cheered up a bit when Gunnlod was so (relatively) casual about his 'condition'. Either she had seen worse or she was good at keeping a straight face. Either way, it had been a good thing.

It had been late when they arrived, many were already sleeping. Beds were on benches along the walls and one wall had cots built into it like large bookshelves. With straw on the bottom and covered with hides, it felt like heaven to Peter when he was tucked into one of them, new hot stones at his feet. Wade was given a cot adjecent to his, and Peter heard the thick wood creak under his weight as he laid down. Peter hardly had time to sigh with content before he was sleeping.

 

**********

 

Peter spend the whole next day in bed, weak and feverish. Truth be told, he could have gotten up but he was afraid to do so. This was all so _strange_. He needed to observe how this world worked before he was prepared to take part in it. Deadpool seemed to adjust faster – but he was an experienced dimension-hopper, he claimed. He wore his mask rolled down most of the time to avoid scaring the children. The old man from last night had introduced himself as Halvdan Crow, not batting an eye when Peter - out of habit - answered that his name was Spider-Man. He had nodded as if the name fit Peter well and then walked away, leaving Peter feeling vaguely insulted. That was when Peter noticed that there were no average adult men in the house. Women of all ages, but only boys or very old men. Deadpool brought Peter more soup and plenty of information.

"So, Spidey!"

"You might as well use my real name."

Deadpool paused with the wooden bowl in his hands.

"So, Mr Parker! How're you feeling this fine day in march, roughly 900-1000 A.D.?"

"That was the weirdest question ever."

"Okay, I'll stop with the Mr Parker thing, just wanted to try it."

"That was NOT the weird bit. And don't spoon-feed me!"

Deadpool had actually filled the spoon with soup and held it up to Peters face. Peter took the bowl from him and sat up to eat. The spandex of his costume was littered with white hairs from the bed hides. He looked like a dog owner. Peter tried to brush them off, but that only transferred them from his suit to the air and he got some in the soup.

"So, vikings." Peter said as he slurped.

"Yep, except no vikings – in the seafaring sense – are here. They were expected home three months ago but the winter has been colder than usual and the sea froze over. No ships can come in." Deadpool said. "Which means we're probably on the coast of the baltic sea, because I don't think the atlantic gets ice-covered often. Keep eating. They asked if we're from Tunis since our clothes are red – don't know what sort of connection that is but I said yes because, whatever, right? I haven't said anything about super powers and I've stashed my guns under my bedstraw."

"And your swords?" Peter said.

Deadpool pointed to a section of the wall, adorned with painted animals and pegs where all types of weapons hung. His katanas made a nice addition to the collection.

"The water is safe to drink, animals are allowed indoors and you go potty next to the manure pile, out the door and two houses to the right. Never use someone else's knife, never beat a slave that's not your own, life vests are located under your seats and don't mention the war."

"What war?" Peter said.

"Ex-actly!" Deadpool winked at him. "You catch on quickly." He unrolled a bundle of brown wool, in the middle of which were a pair of socks and sealskin boots. "I asked nicely and got a warm tunic for you, you can wear it over the suit. My costume is much warmer than your thin, revealing, sexy spandex."

"Thank you." Peter said.

"No problem, I'll call you sexy any time!"

"Thank you for GETTING ME CLOTHES."

 

*********

[ ](http://s36.photobucket.com/user/Four-Nostril/media/rosala-winter-farmansgard-2_zpslk0bnmom.jpg.html)

**********

Image from [Rosala Viking Centre](http://rosala.fi/en/vinterfester/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So perhaps some of you are wondering how come Deadpool and Spider-man speaks fornnordiska. The answer is very simple.
> 
> . . . 
> 
> Um.
> 
> Look, do you want the porn or not?


	4. You've Got to Be Kidding

********

The need to pee and examine his surroundings had gotten Spider-Man outside. The village - or farm? - was a gathering of houses of different sizes, from the largest where they were staying to the smallest, which was basically just a thatched roof over a hole in the ground. The snow was deep and some houses were snowed in, Spider-Man and Deadpool came to the conclusion that they were not used right now. Other houses had cleared paths to the doors. There were no ships by the jetty, but several small boats turned upside-down away from the ice. The sky was blindingly clear. It was beautiful but also frightening, because this unpolluted air could only mean that they were, indeed, in the past. How would they get home?

 

The wind had changed and was coming from northwest. It seemed like this was something important, because it put all the villagers on edge. Some of the smaller cattle had been brought inside. They were told to prepare for a freezing night. Boys were bringing in high piles of firewood and putting on extra clothes before going to bed, rather than the opposite. Peter was making his narrow cot, head-to-head with Wade's, when one of the children came up to him.

"Mummy said I should ask if you and Dead pond want to have kids." she said.

Peter stiffened and looked at Wade's back. There was no doubt that he must have heard what the child said, but the question hadn't been directed at him, so it wasn't like he could answer. WHAT had Wade been telling them? Was Gunnlod considering them a COUPLE? But surely … anyway, he had to answer now, the child was waiting.

"Um, no. Deadpool and I are not together … not like that."

"Mummy said she has two that she could give you."

Okay, Wade definitely heard that. He sounded like he was choking on his own spit and Peter felt a lot less cold now that he was blushing from head to toe.

"Tell Gunnlod no thanks." he said. The child ran off, and they could both see the message getting delivered. All along the walls, people were tucking themselves in. Gunnlod listened to her child, shrugged her shoulders and picked up the last two baby goats from the small herd resting on the floor. She brought them over to the old gaunt man sleeping closest to the door and tucked them in at his foot end. He smiled with his toothless mouth and thanked her profusely. When Peter looked around, he noticed that many of the cots were provided with goats for warmth.

"Damn it!" Peter said.

"Don't blame me, I would have said yes." Wade said. "But I'll rather suffer a chilly sleep than take the hot spots away from the poor old geezer."

 

********

 

In the middle of the night, Peter woke up shivering. He had underestimated how cold it was going to be. He wasn't in danger or anything, it was just uncomfortably cold. He tried to pull the blanket closer around him but it only helped a little. The feet were the worst, so he pulled them up under his butt. Better but too uncomfortable. Then he figured he could take some of the straw from under his headrest and pack it around his feet. Eager to improve the situation, he grabbed large fistfuls of the straw - and almost touched Wade's head. He kept still.

Wade's head was so _warm_. He had the mask on except for the chin and mouth, and was breathing peacefully. Peter felt even colder than before, in comparison. It was stupid, it was really stupid, but he stretched out his hands to hover over Wade's head to warm them. It felt like it worked, too, but he was freezing much more than that. Assured by Wade's slow breathing, Peter dared to put his hands on Wade's broad shoulders. It tingled pleasantly as warmth flowed from his fingers and up through his arms.

"Szznork . . . Spidey?"

"Oh, uh, hey."

"Why'd you wake me, whazza matter?" Deadpool said sleepily. Peter was much too embarrassed to admit that he had touched Deadpool's shoulders to warm his hands. It was easier to go with the flow and pretend he had intended to wake him.

"Uh, do you have a spare blanket or something? It's cold."

"Sorry, I gave away my extras. But climb in with me, I'll scoot over. Snug as a bug in a rug." Deadpool said. "C'mon, I've got plenty of spare heat, my mitochondria are working overtime."

Peter hesitated, but Deadpool moved his body up against the wall to make half the cot available, so he did it. He slipped into the mercenary's bed as if was something perfectly ordinary, something friends do. It was wonderfully cosy. Deadpool was soon snoring, and Peter fell asleep on his side, facing away from his bedfellow.

Peter often had vivid dreams, but somehow Spider-Man's dreams were more intense. It was probably a great topic for some psychology student's term paper, but Peter didn't like to dwell on the fact that his subconscious wants, fears and needs were different depending on who he was at the time. A recurring theme in Peter's dreams, especially when he had been scared or stressed, was a sweet and comforting someone-to-watch-over-me. It happened a lot, and always starred someone he knew. This person took a position of power that meant Peter had no more responsibilities. Sometimes it was short and simple (Iron Man Had flown him away from so many explosions in dreams), sometimes elaborate (once he had been Natasha's under-qualified secretary that couldn't be trusted with anything important). It wasn't always superheroes, one time he had dreamt he was the talented and spoiled son of his college professor instead of an ordinary student. Whatever the scenario, it was always a situation that meant Peter could relax and put his feet up, since he was taken care of. Sweet dreams indeed.

 

*********

 

_He took the elevator up to the tenth floor._

_He used his own keys to open the door._

_He put his bag of books on a chair that was placed there just so he would have somewhere to put his bag. On the coat hanger was plenty of space for his jacket. Well-fed geraniums were blossoming on the windowsill._

_"I'm home!" Peter shouted._

_"Welcome home, darling!" The answer came from the kitchen. "Have a seat in the living room, dinner will be ready in twenty minutes."_

_"What is it?" Peter said and slumped down in a huge floral-printed sofa._

_"A surprise. I put all your clean clothes in your wardrobe, if you want to change. No? I stopped by aunt May's place today and brought her stuff from the farmer's market, we chatted for an hour or so. Oh, and I proofread your paper for tomorrow. It's on your desk, but there was nothing you needed to fix."_

_"Great." Peter said. Wade came out of the kitchen wearing what Peter knew was the frilliest of his several frilly aprons. It said ' ~~kill~~ kiss the cook' in blue letters. He wasn't wearing his mask, and his smile was beaming like sunshine._

_"So how about a kiss for your busy home-maker? No, no, don't get up, you look tired." Wade came up to Peter and bent down for a quick kiss. And a second one, not quite so quick. And a third, long and lingering. He kneeled on the floor between Peter's legs and enveloped him in a huge, bone-crushing hug. Peter felt as if his long to-do list was erased with a strong squeeze. Wade kissed Peter lightly on the ear and whispered._

_"Now, how about I take proper care of my toy boy?" In the dream, Peter totally expected this to happen. It was a habit, and he always looked forward to this moment of the day. The moment when Wade would stroke Peter's thighs with his strong hands, unbutton the fly and take Peter's cock out and swipe the precum with the tip of his tongue and …  
_

 

********

 

Peter woke up.

It was dark. He lay against Deadpool's back, spooning him. Peter had a hard-on that was no ordinary morning wood, and it was pressing hard against Deadpool's round butt. Peter's entire body was flush against Deadpool, who had moved towards the middle of the bed in his sleep, leaving Peter with no room to turn away. He was squeezed between a hard plank on one side and the almost as hard, muscular back of a very dangerous man on the other. And he was so turned on. His skin felt like it was pulsating against the warm body in front of him. Peter's face was close to the tear in the suit at Deadpool's shoulder, hastily mended with staples. It smelled of blood, it was a strong, ferrous odour. It could have been horrifying, but to Peter it smelled like life. Warm, ever-lasting life, which would never run out. The musk escaping from the exposed skin on Deadpool's neck was making Peter feel drunk and he breathed in and in until his head was swimming. All this from a wet dream? He didn't usually dream about sex with men. Not often, anyway. He was sweating all over and there was no doubt the fabric over his crotch was wetter than the rest. Peter didn't dare to move a muscle. Partly because he was afraid to wake Deadpool, partly because he was afraid even a slight bit of friction would make him come. His hard-on was leaning to the left, throbbing with his pulse and creating a minute friction on its own.

He had to make the erection go away. Peter tried to calm his weeping cock, tried to remember the password for his old DeviantArt account, which he forgot years ago. Thinking about Jameson screaming at him. About the strand of bedstraw that was poking out between the hides in front of his forehead. After all, he couldn't just dry-hump Deadpool in his sleep, that was more than creepy. If Deadpool woke up and noticed, he would be angry.

_Ha, no._

Of course not. Deadpool had made it obvious that he had a thing for Spider-Man. If he woke up and noticed, he would just smirk, reach down and grab …

_Fuuuuuck!_

That mental image pushed him over the edge. Peter tumbled out of the bunk and swung into his own, 0.001 seconds before he creamed his underwear. Deadpool was still snoring. Peter tried to wipe off a bit on a corner of his blanket. He lay still, trying to calm his loud breathing.

********


	5. Gone Fishin'

A week had passed. The weather was better but the temperature was still below freezing, even in the middle of the day when the sun was shining. After talking with  old man Halvdan – who was very talkative – both Peter and Wade had learned a lot. It was late march and spring was unusually late. Everybody was restless, because after a long winter spent mostly indoors, there was very little left to do. Everything that could be whittled was already whittled. All blades, knifes, axes, needles and chisels had been whetted. There was no more yarn to do any weaving – as the oldest woman in the house kept complaining about. A minor fight had actually broken out regarding who would get the privilege to mend Deadpool's suit. He had spent half a day under a blanket before he got it back, not only mended but with a red-on-red embroidery of a serpent covering the tears. Every story had been told too many times, and people had complained so much that the storyteller had retreated to his own small house as soon as the temperature had allowed it. The guard dogs had learned SO many stupid tricks. Everybody was eager for this winter to end.

 

At least the meals were something to do. Everything was meticulously prepared. If it could be sliced, it was sliced leaf thin. If it could be baked, it was baked to perfection. However, the variation was not great. Broths, soups, porridges and bread, with or without meat added. There were no vegetables to be seen, but Peter had found out from the old man that they farmed kale, leek, carrots, turnips and a great number of herbs but that they never lasted through the winter. Dried apples, cherries and berries had run out a month ago. Wade was eating a lot, as he always did. They were sitting at the table and Gunnlod has just given him a second bowl.

"Wade … did you notice something very strange just now?" Peter said.

"Hmmm … no."

"A PREGNANT WOMAN just gave her own ration to you when you asked for seconds."

"Do you mean it's contagious? Will I get preggers? Oh my, I don't think I'm ready for this."

"No, dumbass! I mean she's probably hungry herself, why did she give her own away?" Peter said. Gunnlod walked around the room, refilling mugs with a broth that was mostly hot water.

 

When the meal was over, Peter went to see her. He had a feeling this could be a touchy subject, but he didn't want to ignore it. He knew a lot about having too little.

"Gunnlod, most generous hostess." Peter said, trying to make a good impression. "Tell me, are we as guests eating too much? Do the children get what they need?"

Gunnlod straightened, her face frowning and unreadable as always.

"Of course they do! There is no problem. You both have had the fortune of coming to a wealthy house where guests are received properly." Gunnlod said.

"Sooo … no problem?"

"None at all. Besides, the winter is almost over and the boats will return."

"The ice is still thick, Gunnlod." Peter said. She didn't answer, which left him to draw his own conclusions.

 

***********

 

The small store house was a grey wood structure, elavated from the ground to keep vermin out. The door at the top of the ladder was locked, and Spider-Man and Deadpool had seen the key in Gunnlod's belt. On the other side of the house was a small aperture for air, but it was much too small to climb through. After some discussion, the team had a plan. Spider-Man whisked them up to the edge of the thatched roof. Deadpool put his feet on the ledge of the aperture, grabbed the roof, and lifted. With a great deal of creaking, the roof bent and gave, so that a slit opened between the roof and the wall. Spider-Man crawled through it upside-down. Deadpool tried to follow but settled for getting his upper body inside, then letting go of the roof again.

"Are you okay like that?" Spider-Man said.

"Well, if we're not staying long. Besides, I need to fart so I'll keep my butt outdoors."

Spider-Man lifted lids, finding nothing or next to nothing in the barrels and baskets. Some barley, a little bit of dry beans. The ceiling was rigged with a rack of bars, on which large round flatbread loaves hung. But there were twenty such bars, with room for hundreds of loaves, and only eleven left. If these were the winter supplies, they were running out.

"But why is she lying?" Deadpool said.

"I guess she doesn't consider starvation a good enough reason to break tradition. She has to feed the guests well." Spider-Man said. "Especially, I think, when said guests are big, strong men that might go berserk if they feel slighted."

"I would never do that!" Deadpool said. Spider-Man looked sceptical. "Not on innocent civilians, anyway." Deadpool added.

"Well, she doesn't know that." Spider-Man was deep in thought, and then he looked up. "You know what, Deadpool?"

"No, what?"

"It's wabbit season!"

"Duck season!" Deadpool shouted.

"Wabbit season! Do you have a gun I could use?"

"Oh, Spidey, I thought you'd never ask."

 

**********

 

 _"Stop touching yourself and sit still!"_ Spider-Man whispered. They were both hiding behind a juniper bush, heavy with snow, and ready to ambush any prey that would enter the trap. They had set up web snares in a glen where they had seen plenty of hoof prints, and Deadpool had rigged some stun bombs.

 _"I'm not touching myself … not much. I just needed to adjust a bit."_ Deadpool said. _"I can't help getting stiff, not with you holding my gun like that."_

_"Like what?"_

_"Tightly in your hand. Your slim, strong, agile hand. The way it's closing around the metal … so hot."_ Deadpool started moaning.

_"Quiet!"_

_"But you need to change your grip a bit."_ Deadpool pointed at Spider-Man's hand. _"Here, put you other hand around here, support with both, and cover this gap."_

 _"Like this?"_ Spider-Man was still whispering.

 _"Oooh yeah, now move them up and down … slowly …"_ Deadpool grinned.

"Jerk!" Spider-Man said, and slapped him lightly.

_"Quiet."_

A moose had triggered the entire line of stun bombs and the snowy glen looked like strawberry sherbet, the way it was covered in blood, moose entrails and bits of meat.

"In my defence, I would like to mention that Canadian moose have a much lower centre of gravity." Deadpool said.

 

*********

 

After deciding that no prey would come close after a spectacle like that, the team decided to try fishing. They found a panhandle of land and tried the north side of it. An adequate explosion later, there was a large hole in the ice and stunned fish floated on the surface. Spider-Man took the job of getting them out. As Spider-Man was webbing the bubbot and cod together in bundles, he suddenly became aware that Deadpool was silent. This was rare, and he looked around to see why. The man was gone. Spider-Man stood up but saw nothing. He didn't want to shout, if Deadpool was silent for a good reason. There were some bare alders on land, and Spider-Man shot some web to climb them. On the other side of the panhandle he saw Deadpool, With one of his katanas ready to strike a blow … on a seal.

 

Spider-Man shot another web and pulled at the handle of the sword, accidentally lopping off Deadpool's thumb.

"OW! What the fuck, dude?"

"Hey, try to keep your canadian instincts down and don't go clubbing seals! They're an endangered species." Spider-man said.

"No, they're not!" Deadpool said, picking up a piece of his glove. The thumb had bounced further away.

"What? Yes they are, I signed a petition once." Spider-Man said.

"They WILL BE endangered. They are not endangered now." Deadpool bent to retrieve his thumb but the seal was faster, and it swallowed the bloody digit with a gulp. Spider-Man realised Deadpool was right.

"Shit. Sorry, Wade. I didn't think … and I didn't mean to hurt you … go ahead then, I won't stop you."

"Nah, it would be weird now. He ate me, I don't want to eat him. He won. How much fish did we get?" Deadpool said.

"Thirty-eight and a half."

"Half?"

"Yeah, just the tail end of one." Peter said. They walked over to the bundles and started to pick them up when Deadpool suddenly stopped.

"OH MY GOD!" Deadpool shouted, clasping his head in his hands. "DO YOU REALISE WHAT THIS MEANS?"

"No?"

Deadpool held the half fish in front of his crotch. "MY CODPIECE IS MISSING!" He fell down in the snow laughing. Spider-Man started laughing too, despite trying to resist it. Not before they were exhausted from a lack of air could they gather their wits enough to go home.

 

*********

*********

Art by[ PETIMETREK](http://petimetrek.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've found it hard to write in english. I know the differences between härbre, visthusbod, stolpbod and njalla, but they all translate to store house in english. Boooring! If anybody reading has a larger vocabulary, let me know.


	6. Bog Butter

**************

They gave the fish to the women, and Gunnlod waved discreetly to Spider-Man and Deadpool to talk in private.

"Thank you very much, I will gladly accept this gift." she said. "But tell me, where did you find a hole in the ice large enough for this catch? We have not been able to fish for some time."

"We didn't find the hole, we made it." Deadpool said.

"You were able to make a hole in ice this thick?"

"Yes?"

"Then come with me." She threw on a hooded coat and mittens, grabbed a shovel and took Spider-Man and Deadpool with her.

It was quite a walk, took them close to an hour through the woods. The snow was thick and loose and it slowed them down. They came to an area of flat ground where the pine trees were old but tiny. Gunnlod took a long string and tied it to a tree with cut markings on the trunk. Then she walked across a treeless area to a trunk on the other side, which had similar markings. Then they all returned to the middle of the string, where there was a knot. Gunnlod started digging in the snow and uncovered ice that was green with moss.

"Under here, buried in the bog, is a cache. Barrels of butter, honey jars, and cheeses sealed in cloth. They last forever deep in the peat. Last winter we didn't need any, but we added more this fall since we had abundance. There should be plenty," she said.

"And now you can't get at them because the ground frost goes too deep?" Deadpool said. Gunnlod nodded.

"All right, ma'am." Deadpool cracked his knuckles. "Would you mind going back to the house while Spider-Man and I do this?"

"Why?" she said.

"Um." Deadpool looked pleadingly at Spider-Man, hoping that he would come up with a reasonable excuse. The real reason was that Deadpool didn't want to show his explosives. Spider-Man's brain was frantically spinning and the wheel of fortune stopped on:

"Well, we're going to need to get naked. To get into proper berserk mood. You know." Spider-Man said. Gunnlod nodded as if this was understandable and left.

 

"How large an explosion do you think would give minimal damage to the food?" Spider-Man said.

"So we're not gonna get naked?"

"No."

"Awwww … "

 

After a muffled detonation and some digging, they were done. Spider-Man webbed the canisters in two huge bundles they could carry on their shoulders. Left behind them was an empty pit in the frozen bog, with a couple of broken jars. One of them had contained honey, and a brave fox that had been watching them for a while was already approaching it. Deadpool had taken a large pottery shard with honey on and was licking it as they walked.

"Grade A team-up, Spidey! One of the best – which is surprising since we didn't stop any bad guys at all. A fine days work with only minimal mutilation." Deadpool said, wiggling his new thumb.

"Yes, about that." Spider-Man said. He stopped, put the bundle down and turned around to face Deadpool. "I'm so sorry."

"You already said that. I regenerate, remember?"

"But still. I owe you a lot, and … I feel bad that I hurt you."

"Spidey. It's – No – Big – Deal."

"But …"

"Tell you what. Kiss and make it better?" Deadpool said, taking the shard in his other hand and holding out the thumb to Spider-Man's face.

Spider-Man looked at it. This was part of their ordinary banter, Deadpool had suggested all sorts of kissing before, sometimes after complete dismemberment. Spider-Man's answer was either a joke or an eye roll. But now, he took the hand and brought it closer to his face. The glove smelled of peat and honey. The thumb was a pinkish red, the newly formed nail immaculate. Spider-Man pressed his lips on it softly.

_One second._

_Two seconds._

_Three seconds and this is already much too long and impossible to ignore as a joke or anything and oh god why did I do this and I want to …  
_

Spider-Man parted his lips and stuck the tip of his tongue out to touch the nail. He wiped it slowly along the cuticle and around the thumb to the soft side. The scarred skin was so thin, it felt like an eyelid. Deadpool didn't move at all. Spider-Man pulled back, letting go of the hand. Deadpool still didn't move, just kept staring at his thumb.

"The … the honey is really good." Spider-Man said.

"…"

"We should go now." Spider-Man said.

"…"

 

*************

 

Deadpool and Spider-Man didn't speak at all on the way home. Deadpool was talking to himself but it was too low for Spider-Man to hear. Fortunately, the dogs had come to meet them and their happy barking put an end to the uncomfortable silence. When they were back in the village, Gunnlod had unlocked the door of the storehouse and motioned at them to bring the food up the ladder. They unloaded the goods and Gunnlod took inventory and decided what would be brought inside the hall immediately. Two girls came to fetch it.

"I need to thank you again. I will go and oversee the cooking, and these two have something for you." Gunnlod said, indicating two women that were standing nearby, smiling at the men.

"We have the steam house ready for you." said the tallest, who looked around thirty and had a birthmark under the left eye that looked almost like a teardrop tattoo.

"Yeah! So you two can go there and we'll come and scrub you good!" said the other one. She was short and muscular, but her voice made her sound like a teenager. Maybe she was. Gunnlod frowned at her, and she looked scolded.

"I mean … so you can go there one at a time to scrub and get clean. Alone."

It was clear that Gunnlod had discussed the strange shy habits of the foreigners with the others.

"Where?" Deadpool said. He followed the women past the jetty, to a tiny house right at the edge of the ice, where smoke and steam billowed from a hole in the roof. As he walked, he unbuckled his belt and sword straps, seemingly in a hurry. Spider-Man watched him duck in through the low door, and saw it open a moment later when Deadpool hung his suit on a peg outside.

 

************

 

The steam house was so tiny that Wade couldn't stand up straight, and hot as a furnace. There was a wooden bench and a large barrel of cold water. There was also a thick bundle of mint leaves and some other herb Wade didn't recognise and wouldn't spend two brain cells on even if he did.

He had to jerk off NOW.

Wade plopped down on the bench and started masturbating furiously. One hand around his balls and the other around the shaft, wet with sweat, he wouldn't last long. He had been achingly hard since Peter took his hand to kiss his thumb. Wade pressed his thumbnail against his own lips to recreate the sensation. It was enough to make him hallucinate Peter's soft pink tongue.

"Peter …" Wade moaned.

He came as soon as he said it, his sperm splashing on the hot stones with a sizzle that filled the air with a burned, fleshy scent he hadn't smelled before. He was already wet all over from sweat and condensed steam. He poured a scoop of water on the stones to get more steam and four scoops over himself to rinse off. Hygiene was not one of his hobbies, but this time he had a purpose. He was a man with a plan. He didn't always have one, in fact his success sometimes depended on the fact that he didn't have one, but today was different. He had detected awkward Spider-flirting, and he was not about to let that gold nugget go unclaimed. This was more or less the 'alone on a desert island' trope, right? Well, except the place wasn't deserted, but still. Total rom-com material. Perhaps, just perhaps, Peter was desperate enough to consider a _liaison_ with this side of prime beef. Deadpool ignored a suggestion from his boxes that he could try to tell Spider-Man how he felt. He knew better than to trust their advice! Clearly, this situation called for a convoluted ruse.

Step one: we jerk off (a necessity).

Step two: get cleaned up.

Step three: jerk off again, in case we need to impress Peter with our stamina later.

Step four: try to be casual tomorrow when we suggest …

Step five: … the _thul_.

 

*************

Image: [Bog butter](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bog_butter) in wooden vessel on Wikicommons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mysterious cliffhanger - just because I love you people.


	7. We Need Porn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Large parts of Skirnismal are canon, but please note that I have added extra smut. Don't use it in an essay.

 ************

 

"Do you know what I miss, Spidey-Butt?" Deadpool said, as they were sitting on a log outside the main hall. The sun felt nice and the temperature was getting closer to the thawing point. Another hour, and the snow on the roof would start dripping. Spider-Man was making kindling while Deadpool was whittling a stick down to nothing with the dagger from his boot. Deadpool had tried to show off his best assets, streching out his legs into the snow drift just in Spider-Man's line of sight, leaning back against the wall, crossing his arms behind his neck, but to no avail. Awkward Spider-Man flirting was not forthcoming on its own. That meant a go-ahead on the plan.

"Toilet paper?" Spider-Man said.

"No."

"Electric lights, ice cream, motor vehicles, Golden Girls, mexican food?"

"No. Well, yes to all that, but not what I was thinking."

"What, then?"

"Porn." Deadpool sighed.

"Oh. Well … I see."

"It wouldn't have to be filmed, but pictures would be nice. I'd settle for plain text, even." Deadpool said. Spider-Man didn't answer.

"But the only entertainment system they've got here is the _thul_." Deadpool said.

"What … what is a thul?" Spider-Man asked.

"The storyteller or whatever. I've tried to figure out what he does exactly, but it seems to be complicated. He tells stories, he recites poetry, but he apparently also mumbles long-ass spells and stuff that goes on for hours and hours and has some sort of religious significance that I don't get. The old dude got tight-lipped as an Aldebaran shellmouth when I asked about that part. Thul-teller guy Torbjörn got his own cabin over there. " Deadpool said and pointed.

"Okay … so they don't have porn." Spider-Man said.

"Oh COME ON! Was there ever a media system in the history of mankind that was not used for porn? Let's go." Deadpool said.

"Go?"

"I want to prove that I'm right."

 

*************

 

The small house that belonged to the _thul_ stood between the brewing house and the smaller of the two barns. The thul's house looked nothing special, and Deadpool knocked on the door and entered. Inside were a hearth, a cot, and a large table littered with neat-looking sticks, pieces of rib bones and small tools. Bundles of marked sticks hung from pegs on the walls. There were also large sculptures in wood, and small ones in ivory and amber. At the table sat a man. He had a fluffy beard that would have made any hipster proud, and was probably not older than thirty-five. He was tying up a new bundle of marked sticks with leather string.

"Gunnlod's new berserks? So what do you want? he said.

"We … we're not berserks." Spider-Man said.

"Dude, we totally are." Deadpool said.

"I'm not! Maybe you."

"Nu-uh, both or nothing. You're stronger than me." Deadpool said. Spider-Man was about to reply when the thul interrupted.

"I said, what do you want?"

 

*************

 

To Spider-Man's surprise, the thul did not think Deadpool's request was in any way remarkable. He had stated they wanted to hear a sexy story, sexy enough to get off to. Torbjörn waved to the bench and the newly appointed berserks sat down. The bench was short so they had to sit thigh-to-thigh. Spider-Man suddenly realised what the place reminded him of. A record store. A pretentious, small vinyl record store with a proprietor that was judging you and your poor taste in music. Torbjörn was looking at the bundles and reached out to touch one of them.

"How about Loki and the burned witch?"

"No!"

"No, I agree. Happy ending please." Deadpool said. The thul pointed to another bundle.

"Loki and the stallion?"

"No! Maybe not Loki at all?" Spider-man said. Torbjörn looked annoyed.

"If you have any OTHER specific requests, could you two please just say so from the start?" Torbjörn said.

"Apologies, my good man! Of course we should. I suggest the following search criteria: consent, happy ending, no underage, no bestiality, true love." Deadpool said. He looked at Spider-Man, who feebly nodded in agreement. Torbjörn was lost in thought for a moment, and then brought up a small pouch. He put it on the table and took out a diminutive gold plate, no bigger than a stamp. On the [gold plate](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gullgubber) was a stylized picture of a man, standing on tip-toe to kiss a woman.

 [](http://s36.photobucket.com/user/Four-Nostril/media/guldgubbe_zpskpy8ao8m.jpg.html)

"Frey and Gerd." He said confidently. "The god of all growing things and the Jotun woman that became everything for him." He grabbed a bundle from the wall, untied the string and laid out the flat sticks to form a solid square with the rhunes facing up. It was not a great number of rhunes, it had to be bullet points rather than a full script.

"Please take it from the top, Torbjörn. Keep in mind that we're not from around here so you'd be wise to give us some backstory." Deadpool said, and put his hands under his chin is a listening pose. The thul cleared his throat and started talking in verse.

 

Frey, the son of Njord,

sat one day on the all-fathers throne,

where he was not allowed,

to look over all the worlds.

 

He looked into Jotunheim,

and saw there a fair maiden,

as she went from her father's house

across the yard.

 

Forthwith he …

 

"Whoa, whoa! Stop there, Torbjörn. Are you just gonna hurry over this bit?" Deadpool said.

"What bit?". Torbjörn said.

"You just said 'a fair maiden'. Details, dude, details! Let's hear some more about this. What was so special about this one? Where is the sexy?"

Torbjörn did not seem to be offended, but considerered it. He pushed the first stick up a bit to make an empty space between it and the second one, as if to leave a metaphorical room for details.

 

Fair was she, and golden.

Large and mighty was this jotun,

as the sun she was radient.

Her skirt was as a thin veil of cloud

across the moon at night.

 

A pail in her hand

she crossed the yard to the well

and as she bent down over the side

did Frey rise from the seat

to better stare into the moon.

 

"How's that?" Torbjörn asked.

"Much, much better." Deadpool said, leaned back and put his hands on his thighs.

 

But Frey was startled

from his illicit wiew

as the all-father returned

Frey had to leave his love.

 

Forthwith he felt a mighty love-sickness.

Stayed in his chambers

took no food or drink

and plagued by a hardness

that never left him.

 

"Ho HO! I bet he tried to jerk it!" Deadpool said.

"As much as I appreciate the comments, I think the immersion will be greater if you did not say them out loud." Torbjörn said, not unkindly. He raked some ashes over the fire to make the room darker before he continued. It felt as if they had been here a long time already, in this room built for listening.

 

Skirnir was Frey's servant.

Skirnir said:

"Tell the truth, Frey,

foremost of the gods,

For now I fain would know;

Why do you sit here,

in the wide halls,

days long, my prince, alone?"

 

Frey said:

"How shall I tell you,

such a young hero,

of all my grief so great?

Though every day

the elfbeam dawns,

It lights my longing never."

 

Skirnir said:

"Your longings, I think,

are not so large

That you cannot not tell them to me;

Since in days of yore

we were young together,

We two might each other trust."

 

Frey said:

"From Gymir's house

I saw go out

A maiden dear to me;

Her arms glittered,

and from their gleam

Shone all the sea and sky."

 

Deadpool leaned closer to Spider-Man and rolled up his mask to whisper into his ear.

"Did you also notice that these guys seems to have a thing for arms? The ladies wear bracelets around their biceps and go sleeveless a lot."

Wade's breath was hot against Spider-Man's ear, and he shuddered, trying unsuccessfully to mask it as a shake of the head. This house was warmer than the others. Peter took his mask off.

 

"To me more dear

than in days of old

Was ever maiden to man;

But no one of gods

or elves will grant

That we both together should be."

 

Skirnir said:

Indeed a Jotun woman

is not a wise choice

for the god of all harvest.

Can your seed not be sewn

here in Asgard?

 

Frey said:

Behold my burden, Skirnir.

Never in my life

have I been this heavy with longing.

– And he bared himself.

 

Skinir said:

Truly, your manhood reaches your beard,

large as a third arm

longer than your sword.

A Jotun woman must it be.

 

Torbjörn had now moved four sticks but there were many left. Wade glanced sideways and caught sight of a beautifully blushing Peter, and when he saw the slight bulge between Peter's legs he tuned out Torbjörn completely.

 

. . .

"Then lend me your horse

that goes through the dark

. . .

 

_Yes! Baby-Boy got a thing for big dicks! Oh sweet heathen fertility gods, this is my chance. I may not have much to offer, but I've got that._

 

**************


	8. Come Here

***************

 

Torbjörn had taken out a shallow drum, the size of a soup plate, and placed it on the table next to the sticks he was reading from. At the end of every verse, he gave it a small thump with the heel of his hand to mark a rhythm. I felt like a slow heartbeat. The story continued with how Skirnir borrowed Frey's horse and sword, and rode to see Gerd loaded with precious gifts. Wade and Peter sat quiet on the bench, thighs touching.

 

Skirnir said to the horse:

"Dark is it without,

and I deem it time

To fare through the wild fells,

We shall both come back,

or us both together

The terrible jotun will take."

 

*Thump*

 

Peter swallowed his spit in tune with the drum. He was still blushing, he could feel his ears burning. The verse where Frey bared his manhood had made his soul turn upside-down. In his mind, he had pictured Wade, sweaty and suffering on his bed, trusting his old friend so much that he would show him …

_Show him …  
_

_Just – took it out in the open – and …  
_

_… and gave him … full access …  
_

_Asking for HELP … with his huge … confiding in his friend … trusting him to …_

His head was a whirlwind of fragmented thoughts. Peter knew he was done for. If he had been that friend, he would never have gone on the journey. He would have taken everything for himself. He never knew he could want something this badly before. From an unknown thing to the most important thing in his life in one second. Peter swallowed again. His whole body was tight as a bowstring, and when he felt a light touch on the small of his back, he yelped and was suddenly on the ceiling. He looked down from the sooty beams and saw Wade with his hands up in an apologetic gesture. Torbjörn, on the other hand, had closed his eyes when reciting and so hadn't noticed the spider-reflexes. Peter dropped back down without a sound and sat beside Wade again.

"Sorry. Won't happen again." Wade whispered. Peter felt a lump in his throat. Did he just ruin everything? So much for being a friend to confide in, when he couldn't even be touched without overreacting.

"No, please … that's okay." Peter whispered. He had missed at least four verses.

 

Gerd said:

"Bid the man come in,

and drink good mead

here within our hall;

Though this I fear, that there without

My brother's slayer stands.

 

*Thump*

 

Wade had moves like a teen at the cinema, stretching his right arm behind Peter's back and letting it hover in the air. Despite the reassurance, he was afraid to startle Peter again, and didn't dare to touch him. Blocked by indecision he remained still, holding his breath until his arm started to tremble. A shudder ran down Peter's spine and Wade threw caution aside and took Peter into a one-armed embrace. They gasped in unison, so intense was the contact after such a long preamble.

 

Skirnir said:

"Eleven apples,

all of gold,

Here will I give thee, Gerd,

To buy your troth

that Frey shall be

Deemed to be dearest to you."

 

*Thump*

 

Gerd said:

"I will not take

at any man's wish

These eleven apples ever;

Nor shall Frey and I

one dwelling find

So long as we two live."

 

*Thump*

 

Peter put his hand on Wade's right thigh lightly. First just the fingertips, then he lowered his palm onto the surface. Wade's leg muscles bulged up so much from the touch that the leather strap on the holster creaked.

 

_Awkward flirting is BACK! Oh thank you thank you. Right. Stay focused, smooth and calm. Don't faint, for example. Fainting is not in the plan. The plan is to to to to toooooooohhhhhhh …  
_

Peter had moved his hand along Wade's thigh, almost an entire inch.

_Plan, plan, plan. Think, Wilson, think. What was the plan again? Step 1 … something._

He looked down at the red-gloved hand on his thigh. Wade's erection strained against his trousers – he had deliberately decided to forego the codpiece. Slightly to the left, it was making a very favourable impression through the fabric. Wade had checked it the same morning to see that there weren't any fresh tumours. Scarring was one thing, but the cancer could get gnarly and that was not a great first impression.

_Impression! Yes, that was it. Impress him with your big dick!_

 

Skirnir said:

"Do you see, maiden,

this keen, bright sword

That I hold here in my hand?

Your head from your neck

shall I straightway hew,

If you will not do my will."

 

*Thump*

 

Gerd said:

"For no man's sake

will I ever suffer

To be moved by might;

But gladly, I think,

I will my father seek

To fight if he finds you here."

 

*Thump*

 

Wade would have rooted for Gerd and her ability to not be bought or forced, if his ears had not been filled with the pounding of his own pulse. Now that the stage was set, he was getting cold feet. Would this really work? Was this not more like sending an unsolicited dick-pic?

 

*Thump*

 

_Well, fuck it. Here goes._

 

Wade reached for his belt buckle with his left hand, keeping his right one around Peter's back. He undid the belt slowly, trying to see Peter's expression out of the corner of his eye. He unzipped with a trembling heart and folded the fabric aside, pulling down the (by now rather dirty) underwear to reveal his in all honesty very impressive cock. The scarring only enhanced the penis-ness, making it redder, veinier and with more ridges than normal. Peter took his hand away.

 

Wade's heart fell.

 

But the hand was soon back, but now without the glove. The hand did a spider-walk along Wade's thigh all the way over to the hairless base of Wade's erection. Wade flinched so hard he fell off the bench. He held on to Peter's waist and pulled himself up, only to come face to face with a Peter he almost couldn't recognise. His eyes were wild and dark.

 

*Thump*

 

"Why are you showing me your dick?" Peter's whispering voice was hoarse.

"Eeeep." Wade's voice was a chicken squawk.

"You want me to help you with it?"

Wade nodded. This was not going as planned and at the same time going better than he could have hoped for. Peter closed his hand around Wade's shaft and squeezed just right, making Wade moan. Torbjörn opened one eye slightly at the sound but didn't miss a beat in the reciting.

 

*Thump*

 

"With three-headed giants

you shall always dwell,

Or never know a husband;

Let longing grip you.

Be like the thistle

that in the loft

Was cast and there was crushed.

 

*Thump*

 

The room was darker now, the embers only glowing. Peter looked at Wade's dick, seeing his precum glitter as it ran down in a tiny rivulet to reach Peter's hand. He smeared it with his index finger. Wade was shaking. He was so thick in Peter's grip, and his own cock gave a soft jerk. It was uncomfortably tight in his suit. He shifted in his seat, only to find that it only made his situation worse. Wade moved his arm from around Peter's back to rest on his crotch instead. Peter bit back a groan as Wade's fingers stroked up and down through the spandex, a taste of what was to come. Wade set a slow pace, and Peter could imagine what his hand would feel like once there was no fabric to separate them.

"Take off the glove." Peter whispered.

Peter began to move his hand up and down, stopping at the head to feel along the scarred tip. He rubbed around and around, taking pride when Wade's hips were gyrating along with his movements.

 

*Thump*

 

Wade had taken his glove off as ordered and was sneaking under Peter's trousers, combing his fingers through the hair. Suddenly he took his hand away. Peter was self-conscious of his own heavy breathing for a few long seconds, before he realized that Wade had only paused to spit in his hand. The spit made the sound of his hand even more obscene. The pleasure that shot through Peter's body made his own movements erratic and he lost his rhythm on Wade's cock. He was much too close already.

"Wade! Oh fuck!" Peter bit down on his right arm to quiet himself as he came in Wade's hand.

"Peter, please don't stop … don't stop, oh please." Wade whimpered. Peter's grip had loosened after he came and his muscles wouldn't obey him now. His fist was loose and Wade was fucking into it, putting his own hand to cover Peter's.

"Don't leave me hanging here, Petey … please let me come, oh sweet gods, please … I need it, Peter _please_ …" Wade was begging out loud now, without a care for anything else. It was the hottest thing Peter had ever heard in his life, and he was eager to help. _So eager_. He took his own come from Wade's hand and used it to lubricate his grip around Wade. A few more strong strokes, and Wade dissolved into a strangled growl. He came, gasping and shuddering as he listened to Peter’s still-ragged breathing. There was a sizzle and a burned, fleshy smell that Wade was familiar with now.

 

 

Frey said:

"Tell me, Skirnir,

before you take off the saddle,

Or take forward a step:

What have you done

in the giants' dwelling

To make glad you or me?"

 

*Thump*

 

Skirnir said:

"The glen called Barri,

which we both know well,

A forest fair and still;

And nine nights hence

to the son of Njord

Will Gerd there grant delight."

 

*Thump*

 

Frey said:

"Long is one night,

longer are two;

How then shall I bear three?

Often to me

has a month seemed less

Than now half a night of desire."

 

The sudden absence of a drum beat after the verse made both Peter and Wade look up. The show was over. Torbjörn was sitting down at the table again, not looking at them but at the sticks. Peter was incredibly grateful for this, since he sat there with a hand full of mixed come and his trousers down. He hastened to make himself presentable, pulling the mask on as well, and Wade did the same.

 

Peter felt dazed, and walked out without a word. Wade picked up his belt and was walking towards the door, but he turned around to talk to the thul.

 

"Top-notch stuff, that. Major kudos, dude. You – uh – you should write that down. Your additions, I mean. Sorry if I'm not very communicative at the moment, but – uh – bit wobbly here." Wade said. Torbjörn just nodded, but he was holding some blank sticks and was adding them to the others.

 

As Wade stepped outside, he was blinded by the light. He had forgotten it was daytime, noon even, and the snowy landscape gave off a white glare that made him squint. Spider-Man was standing there, looking towards the sea.

"So – what did ya think?" Wade asked. Spider-Man didn't answer, and that made Wade very nervous. _Here comes the regret_.

"Pretty hypnotizing, don't you agree? Sort of makes a guy do stuff he later can't really believe he did, right? Well, maybe it didn't! What happens in 10th century, stays in 10th century and all that." Wade said.

 

Spider-Man pulled up his mask again and jumped at Wade, knocking him backwards in the snow. _First the regret, and here comes the beating_. Wade thought.

 

But Peter kissed him.

**************

Art by Petimetrek.


	9. Boobs, Bath and Beyond

**********

_Peter kissed him._

Wade's face was wide-eyed under the mask. Peter brushed his thumb gently over Wade's chin, the thin red skin of the scarred surface wrinkling like silk under his touch. Peter closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the mouth of the merc. He felt the tension leave Wade as he heard him moan softly, tilting his head to get a better angle. Peter placed his hands beside Wade's shoulders in the snow and he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth slightly, flicking his tongue against Wade's lips. Wade whimpered when Peter bit lightly at his lower lip and he let out a needy moan. Peter smiled into the kiss, he now loved it when Wade was needy. He could feel Wade's hands on his back, slowly making their way down and grabbing his butt. Peter marvelled at how much he had wanted to do this. How much he craved it. He broke the kiss again, panting slightly. He sat up, remaining seated right on Wade's hips. Wade was hard again and so was he, and he was grinding against Wade as if he had been practising this his entire life.

"I can't believe this … what have you done to me?" Peter said.

"Not to mark words, but I'm pretty sure YOU are doing it to me right now."

"But, I mean, I'm not gay."

"No, fine, sure. No problem. Just you rubbing your dick against mine in a totally straight way. No homo." Wade said. Peter snorted.

"Jerk-face. I mean I never considered myself gay."

"Well, coming to terms with who you are and what you are can be a chALLenge and it's a lot to consiDER and I would really like to heEEElp you out and all and maybe dISCuss this and helping you consider this challenge and COOOming to terms with it and it's a challENGe to consider and I can't really THInk as long as you are grinding like thAT." Wade rambled, his voice taking a high note every time Peter pushed down.

"So I should stop?"

"NoO."

 

Peter felt good about this. Not only the good feeling that came from half the blood in his body gathering in his groin, but also a notion that good things would come from this. He had been conflicted, he hadn't known what to do, but he had taken the plunge and all was well. He let the ecstasy of free falling wash over him, trusting himself make a perfect superhero landing.

 

Peter noticed footsteps in the snow, coming closer. He had been gathering plenty of experience on the sound of footsteps in snow by now, and knew which conditions would render them almost inaudible (fresh, cold and fluffy snow) and which would emphasize them with crunching (cold and grainy snow) or thumping (warm and heavy snow). Maybe thumping wasn't the right word, but it felt right. The footsteps he heard now were approaching, so he tapped on Wade's torso to alert him and pulled the mask down. He had no clue what the local attitude about same-sex relationships was. The short, muscular teen came around the corner of the thul's house. 

"Sorry to break up your battle practice, but we were hoping you could help us make a hole in the ice." She said.

The girl walked with them down to the sea. Peter grabbed his warm tunic on the way. The steam house was billowing smoke and there were four other women there. The tall one with the birth mark held two bronze digging bars, which she handed to them. They wanted a hole right by the jetty. Spider-Man glanced at Deadpool and they were both aware that it would be best to at least LOOK as if it was difficult. No punching through the ice in one super-strong blow. So they put on a show of effort, hacking away. The ice was still more than a foot thick. When they sprung a piece loose, the women scooped it out. Soon the hole was two feet across, and Spider-Man asked how large it needed to be.

"Large enough for a swim!" The girl said. Deadpool dropped the bar from surprise. It would have disappeared down in the water if Spider-Man had not caught the last inch of it above the surface with his sticky fingers. _Stupid reflexes. I should have let it drop._ The women looked at him, astonished, but said nothing. When the hole was four feet across it was deemed big enough. Deadpool and Spider-Man walked up to a bench on a knoll to look as if they needed to rest.

 

The women had gone into the steam house, and the oldest lady, Signhild as they had learned she was called, had joined them. The heroes sat on the bench and looked out over the sea. Old Halvdan came and sat down with them, and that blocked any attempt at talking about what had happened, so they sat in silence. After a while, the door of the steam house opened again and the women rushed out, jumped into the icy water, surfaced with a shout and ran back in again. Old Signhild did the same but with less rushing and no shouting. Spider-Man got chilblains just from watching. When they came out the second time they waved and shouted 'thank-you' before jumping in. The water that splashed up on the jetty froze. When they came out, the tall woman was hugging her head with her arms and cursed.

"Brain freeze. Shit from all the dogs in Niefelheim! Ow!"

"Don't keep your head under for so long, your skull will shrink!" One of the others yelled, smacking her butt as they ran back in.

The third time they came out they started posing, showing off their arms and thighs in an exaggerated manner. Then they turned their backs towards the knoll, put their hands on their knees and wiggled their butts. The wiggling turned to bumping, which turned to knocking-each-other-down-in-the-snow. Spider-Man was thankful that he had the mask on to hide the blush. Deadpool leaned over to whisper.

"So, totally homo, or?"

"Maybe three quarters homo?" Spider-man answered.

One of the women jumped up on the back of the tall one with the birthmark, grabbing her plaits. She tried to shake her off, which only made the woman on her back grab her by the tits instead. The tall woman ended the mock fight by diving into the water, burden and all.

"Or maybe half homo?" Spider-Man whispered.

"I'm sort of glad I didn't turn you off boobs. They are awesome." Wade answered, resting his chin on his hands. The women ran back inside to warm up. The old man cleared his throat.

"Just a word, young men. You are right in thinking that the ladies over there are warm for you. And had the time been any other than now, I wouldn't have said anything at all. In fact, please don't tell them I stopped you, or I'm in trouble. The thing is, you see, that women like to get themselves some manhood on the side in the winters. In the summers, too, but especially in the winters. This is their right, as long as these 'sides' are gone when the husbands return. If they are still here when the ships come in, there will be a battle between the husband and the man in his wife's bed. He will not be angry with the wife, as I have understood is often the case elsewhere. If the rival is gone, all is well. And now comes the point of this long talk; _you have nowhere to go_. When the ships return, you will still be here." the old man said.

"Nice of you to watch out for us, but I'm sure we could fend for ourselves." Deadpool said.

"I'm sure you could. It's not you I'm worried about, but my son on the first ship."

 

Spider-Man understood what he was trying to say. If they were to get involved with the women, a fight could not be avoided, and somebody could die. The old man left them and walked towards the main hall, crossing paths with Gunnlod coming out from it. They exchanged words but were too far away for Spider-Man and Deadpool to hear. The old man went indoors but Gunnlod followed his track to where the heroes were sitting. When Gunnlod had walked all the way to the bench, she put her hands on her own back and stretched with a sigh. Her tunic hardly reached around her pregnant belly, and she wore one belt under it and another one over it.

"Getting heavy?" Deadpool said.

"Hm." Gunnlod replied. She was frowning as usual, and looked down towards the steam house, from which a lot of laughter and shrieking could be heard. She carried a bunch of keys in her belt, and they suddenly jangled as the baby kicked.

"Oooooh! Can I touch the belly?" Deadpool said, wiggling his fingers in the air. Gunnlod didn't answer, but took one very determined step away from him. He got the message and closed his hands in his lap. Gunnlod kept looking away from them, but both Spider-man and Deadpool could sense that she was about to tell them something. After a minute of awkward silence, Gunnlod gritted her teeth and spoke.

"I understand that old father gave you some advice." Gunnlod said.

"We probably weren't going to …" Spider-Man started to say, but she interrupted him.

"But as guests in this hall, it is my duty to see you well kept. Therefore …" Gunnlod paused, took a deep breath and continued "… I wanted to tell you that there is nothing to stop you from going to the slaves. Thralls have no husbands." She turned around and pointed. There were three women working beside the barn, bringing ashes in pails from the different houses. They were emptying them on the manure pile and mulling the ash down with shovels so it wouldn't blow about in the wind. When they noticed Gunnlod and the two men looking at them they bowed their heads and tried to be inconspicuous. Spider-Man was shocked, baffled and more than a little insulted.

"No thank you. I mean thank you, most generous hostess. We understand. But no thank you." Spider-Man said.

"I can order them to clean up." Gunnlod said. "But they are not born here and can not stand the ice bath."

"No. No thank you." Spider-Man said, shaking his head vigorously.

"I'm with Spidey. No fondling the unwilling." Deadpool said.

Gunnlod visibly relaxed. She exhaled deeply and her shoulders sank. The baby kicked again and the keys jangled just like last time.

"You can touch it if you want." She said to Deadpool. He put a hand flat on it and felt a hard punch from the inside.

"Hello widdle baby! Hey Spidey, feel this! The baby takes after its mother, no question."

Spider-Man exchanged a glance with Gunnlod, who seemed to think it was okay now. He was still a bit worried about having been rude to refuse her offer, so he couldn't really say no to this one. He put his hand on the side, where Deadpool indicated, but felt nothing. He shook his head at Deadpool. The merc took Spider-Man's hand and held it flat under his own close to the lower belt. Now he could feel the kicking, but Deadpool's hand on top of his was a more intense sensation than the belly under it.

They all heard a yell. One of the slaves had opened the door of the thul's house, to collect the ashes from his hearth, but she had dropped the pail and was running towards Gunnlod.

***********

 

 

[ ](http://s36.photobucket.com/user/Four-Nostril/media/preggo_zpsmcyxkwmd.png.html)

Art by [azherwind](http://azherwind.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My image storage site is not always working. Please let me know if any art does not display properly.


	10. Falling Sickness

***********

They all heard a yell. One of the slaves had opened the door of the thul's house, to collect the ashes from his hearth, but she had dropped the pail and was running towards Gunnlod.

"Torbjörn is cramping!" the slave shouted. Gunnlod, Deadpool and Spider-Man ran to meet her and to the open door. Gunnlod looked in and her face turned white.

"I mustn't go in." She said. "I mustn't even think about this sickness, or the child could be born with it." Gunnlod turned around and walked back to the main hall without saying another word, calm and composed in her manner but with a pale face. Spider-Man ducked through the low door to see Torbjörn. Deadpool spoke to the frightened thrall.

"What is the matter with Torbjörn?"

"He has falling sickness." She answered.

"Okay, you … what is your name?"

"Desdemona"

"Great, Desdemona. You from Greece? Go fetch a hot drink. Chamomile or something." Deadpool said, and she left. He went inside to find Spider-Man kneeling on the floor next to Torbjörn, who was convulsing.

"Epileptic fit, full tonic-clonic seizure, I've seen this happen back home in Queens sometimes. No point in calling 911 here." Spider-Man said. "I rolled him on his side, and we can lift him on to the bed when it's over. There isn't much we can do but wait, unless you got anticonvulsants or benzodiazepines stashed in your pouches."

Deadpool shook his head and they waited together.

 

After a minute, the convulsions came to an end. Wade lifted Torbjörn and put him on his own bed. The man looked weary and confused, his forehead was sweaty and he had a small smear of blood on his lip. He turned his head from side to side and his eyes darted about. Peter sat on the edge of the cot and took his mask off so he could meet his gaze. Desdemona knocked on the door and handed Wade a mug.

"It's all right. You're okay. It was just an attack, and it's over now." Peter said. Torbjörn tried to sit up. Peter didn't want to restrain him, but kept his hands on the thul's shoulders and hoped he wouldn't try to get further away. It took a moment or two, but Torbjörn came to his senses and sank back down on the bed. He looked very tired. Deadpool offered him the mug, and he took it.

"Thank you." Torbjörn said. "Hope I didn't frighten you. It's not my first fit."

"I was worried that maybe our visit … " Peter said.

"No, this can happen any time, don't blame yourself. I don't feel too good, could you ask old Signhild to make her special mugwort for me?"

"She may be in the steam house, but I can go and see if she's done." Peter said, and got up. He left, and Deadpool sat down next to the bed. Torbjörn coughed a little, and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

 "So … falling sickness, huh? That's gotta suck money balls." Deadpool said. Torbjörn laughed and coughed again.

"I have never seen a 'monkey', but yes." He was flat on his back, which made his voice weak. "But I have heard them described. There are so many things I have never seen with my own eyes."

"Is this why you are the thul?" Deadpool asked.

"Well, I can safely say I don't do it for the money. I would have travelled with the rest if I could have, but I have never been away from this place. This curse can strike at any time, so I have to stay close to the yard." Torbjörn sighed. "I was born here and I will die here. Probably soon, too."

"I upgrade my statement from monkey balls to donkey balls."

 

They were silent. Deadpool was humming.

"♪♬Suck on my chocolate salty balls … ♪♬" He interrupted himself. "It takes Spider-Man a while to fetch the herb thing you asked for, so I'm guessing old Signhild was still naked. There was a lot of naked there, and she was part of it, is what I'm saying. Not that it would stop him from helping you, 'cause he's a hero type. The real hero stuff, too, not like me. He could stick his head into a steam house full of naked any day and not be distracted." Deadpool continued talking while he stood up and walked over to the door. "If he said he would fetch Signhild, then … " Deadpool looked out and saw Peter, supporting the old lady by the elbow as they walked up the snowy slope to the store house. "… then that's exactly what he'll do." Deadpool sat back down again, more relieved than he wanted to admit to himself.

Torbjörn had taken a comb from his pocket and was combing his beard, which was full of dust, short pieces of straw and small wood splinters from the floor. He was still exhausted and his hands trembled.

"You have no beard?" he asked.

"Not to speak of." Deadpool said. "Not since the … thing." He didn't want to go into details about weapon X or anything else about his background. Torbjörn paused and looked at Deadpool as if he was deciding if he should ask or not.

"You seemed to enjoy the saga?"

Thankful for the change of subject, Deadpool was happy to answer this one.

"Most def! Nice rhytm, good characters, and you were totally right about the immersion. And, um, I hope we didn't go to far with the appreciation, if you know what I mean."

"Not at all. But, I wonder, what did you think about the underlying theological theme? The moral of the story, so to speak?" Torbjörn said. Deadpool didn't know how to answer that one and considered it for a minute.

"Sex is good? Or maybe love conquers all?"

"There is that, of course." Torbjörn said, nodding. "There is also a message of not letting the fact that your people are enemies get in the way. But the main theme, which is perhaps not obvious to you – I'm assuming you are not aware – is that all gifts have a cost."

"Easy on the mansplaining."

"This is important. Because of the events described, Frey no longer has his sword and will have to fight unarmed when Ragnarök comes. This is the world order. Odin wanted wisdom and paid with his eye. Mimer wanted peace and paid with his head. When we want something from the gods, we give them something. Gold. Weapons. Food. Blood. A sacrifice that makes them owe us." Torbjörn was sitting up, making large gestures with his hands, and still holding the comb. "And even more importantly, if they give us something, _whether we asked for it or not_ , we are wise to pay and pay _soon_ , lest they come to collect it."

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, dude." Deadpool said. "Don't get yourself all worked up right now, you're pale as a ghost. I get that you're trying to tell me this for my own good, but it's cool. I haven't gotten anything from any god in a long time. I could count my blessings on a no-fingered hand."

A knock on the door interrupted them. Peter came in, without his mask and with a fancy cup made out of a cow's horn in his hand. He was backlit by the afternoon sun and his worried face looked positively angelic to Deadpool.

_Well shit. Epiphany. Better make plans for thanksgiving._

 

Hey look, two cocks in the snow!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this chapter to be longer, but decided I'd rather update on time.
> 
> I also wanted kissing in it, but Torbjörn wouldn't stop talking.


	11. Lousy Head

It was a sunny morning the day after Torbjörn's fit. Peter and Wade had eaten the morning meal and Peter straightened out their cot blankets and pelts. He was the only one who ever did that. When they came outside, everything was dripping and the snow was mushy. Rivulets of water ran down the icy footpaths towards the sea, and a breeze shook drops from all trees, leaving them bare of both snow and water. At least ten people were down on the jetty, in a lively discussion that seemed to focus on the ice, which they were pointing at, and the horizon, which they also pointed at. The heroes went down the slope and joined the group.

"What are you discussing?" Peter asked Signhild.

"The ice."

"Oooo-kay." Peter said, not knowing what sort of follow-up question to make. Wade jumped in instead.

"It sure is a lot shinier than it was a few days ago. Wetter, too. Like, it's shimmering a bit and the horizon looks sorta wobbo-wobbo. Is that it?"

"It may be getting close to spring break." Signhild said.

"Spring break! Woo hoo! Schools out and let's party!" Wade shouted, his arms in the air. Everybody turned to stare at him, but he kept his arms up.

"Unless spring break means something else. Is it still something good?"

"Yes, it's a good thing." Signhild said.

"Well Woo hoo, then! Like I said!"

 

Gunnlod was kneeling on the ice, with some difficulty. She put her ear down in the thin layer of water and everybody hushed. All was quiet. Gunnlod stayed with her ear down on the ice for so long that Peter got worried for her, but then she stood up. She didn't look satisfied.

"I can't hear it." She said. The others sighed. Peter was intrigued.

"Dear hostess, what is it you can't hear?" Peter asked.

"The ice breaking. With this weather, we were hoping for the spring break. If not here, then at least further south and out on the open sea. But I can't hear any." Gunnlod wiped her wet cheek.

"Can I try, maybe? My hearing is pretty good." Peter said. Gunnlod looked at him with her usual frown.

"My hearing is pretty good too." She answered.

"Well, what Spider-Man here is to polite to say is that his hearing is a lot better than 'pretty good'. Trust me, Gunnlod, this man could hear a rat fart. I should know, I've never been able to sneak one past him. A fart, that is, not a rat." Wade said. Gunnlod's frown was firmly in place but she still turned to Peter.

"Of course you can try. Everybody else be quiet, and stand still so the boards don't creak."

Peter kneeled down on the ice, his mask pulled off completely.

"What am I listening for?" Peter said.

"I would rather not tell you." Gunnlod said. "It is too easy to convice oneself that a faint sound is there, when it is really only in your own head. Please tell me what you hear."

Peter put his ear down on the wet ice, closed his eyes and put his spider-hearing to work. He covered his other ear with his hand.

"I hear bubbling." He said.

"That is the sea grass, waking up from the thin sunlight. Anything else?" Gunnlod said.

"I hear a drone or whirr."

"That is fish singing. Anything else?"

Peter put his mind to it, tried to mentally go into the glittering cold water and feel any vibration, sound or otherwise. There was something …

"I hear tinkling … slushing … clanging … it's very faint, but it sounds like broken glass windows, or plates in the sink." Peter said, figuring a bit to late that both glass windows and sinks were not good metaphores. It didn't seem to matter, because the waiting audience erupted in glee, stomping and clapping. Peter rose and wiped his ear, Gunnlod patted his shoulder lightly. Peter realised this was the first time she had touched him since the first evening when she had lifted his foot to check how cold he was. Wade, on the other hand, came up from behind and crushed him in a bear hug.

"That's my spider!"

Wade remained embracing Peter while the others seemed to get ready for something. Gunnlod was giving out instructions and some women went back to the main hall. Wade buried his nose in Peter's hair, and it felt good. Peter was surprised when Wade pulled back suddenly.

"Damn, Peter. I didn't think it was possible, but you just made me feel good about my looks." Wade said.

"Oh? And how did I do that?" Peter asked, convinced that Wade was going to say something romantic now that the others were out of earshot.

"Well, right now I'm happy I don't have hair." Wade said.

"Uh-huh …" Peter purred, backing up into Wade's embrace, but Wade also backed.

"Because you've got lice."

"WHAT!" Peter jumped away and drew his hands through his hair, completely disgusted to see small bugs stuck on his gloves.

"OH GOD GET THEM OFF!"

"Easy there, it's not dangerous." Wade said.

"BUT IT'S YUCKY!"

"I'll go get a comb, wait here." Wade said, and went up to the main hall, leaving Peter to freak out. Peter sat down on a bench next to the house where they stored small boats and fish nets, torn between running his fingers through his hair and not even wanting to touch it. Wade soon returned with a fine-toothed bone comb. He sat down behind Peter and started going through the brown, unruly locks one strand at a time, knocking the comb against the side of the bench after every stroke. Peter struggled at first, but Wade was insistent and gentle. Peter calmed down a bit.

"How did we not notice it before?" Peter said.

"Probably because it's dark indoors, and you always wear your mask outdoors." Wade said, ruffling the thick hair on the back of Peter's head. He was humming.

"Don't tell me you're enjoying this." Peter said.

"How could I not?" Wade said, stroking his fingers along Peter's neck.

"My hair is both filthy and lice-infested." Peter insisted.

"No amount of filth could make you anything but irresistible." Wade said, putting the comb down to take Peter back in his arms. Peter chuckled.

"Less hugging, more bugging."

********************

Art by Azherwind.


	12. On Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw art below

Wade was still combing Peter's hair free from lice when Gunnlod and Signhild came back down to the jetty, carrying a lot of stuff in their arms.

"Maybe I should just shave my hair off?" Peter said to Wade.

"I demand that you give back the razor you borrowed if you intend to use it for something like that!" Old Signhild yelled. She came closer and poked Peter in the chest. "It was bad enough that you used it to shave your entire beard off – and it was coming in so nicely – but you should let your hair grow. How can you call yourself a grown man when your hair and beard is too short to braid?"

Peter was speechless. Societal norms were strong here, it seemed. _On the other hand_ , he thought _, this must mean she thinks we're part of the gang now._ Temporary guests could most likely wear their beard any way they wanted to. Just like the old man had said, the two of them had nowhere to go, and at least Signhild seemed to assume they were staying. Peter didn't even have the beginning of a plan how to get home, apart from the faint hope that the funnels may come back. Wade kept combing, still humming.

Three children, around eleven or twelve years old, came running down from the main hall, agile and shouting, slipping down the icy path standing on one leg, or, in one case, on her hands. They came up to Gunnlod and Signhild on the jetty, and the women started to bundle them up in wool and furs. When Gunnlod deemed them sufficiently bundled, she gave them a shoulder bag each, a long pole with a spike, and started strapping something to their feet.

"Now, who has the food?" Gunnlod asked.

"I do!" One child said.

"And who has the embers?"

"I do!" The second child said.

"And who has spare bones?"

"I do!" The third child said.

"Good. Now, the wind is coming from north west, so you'll have it in your backs. If it turns more westerly, go around dog's head island on the east side so you don't need to struggle against it. If the wind stays, go around on the west side. You will have to decide for yourself if you can come home tonight or not. If not, do you know where you can stay?" Gunnlod asked them.

"The hay barn on middle meadow island."

"Or the old fishing sheds before you come to the narrow strait."

"And there's that abandoned store house way down by big birch glen."

"Good. Don't go further south than you can go in a day and a half. I don't want you to spend two nights away from home. If there is no ice break before you see the cairn high on the east shore, don't go further. Climb up to the cairn and scout from there." Gunnlod said. She had finished strapping – long, sharpened bones, Peter noticed now – to their boots and they were circling around on the ice, paying little attention to the rest of her motherly instructions. Peter remembered the night he and Wade has walked across the ice and was uneasy that she was sending children on such a risky mission.

"Gunnlod, please, perhaps we could go instead?" Peter said, pointing at Wade and himself.

"Why?" Gunnlod asked.

"This sounds dangerous, and you are sending children." Peter said. The skaters did a screeching halt and glared at him. One of them stuck her tongue out at him.

"This is not a job for old men. You weigh double – if not four times – as much as we do," she said.

"Yes, but …" Peter said.

"And you don't know the way."

"Well …"

"Besides, I bet you don't even have skate bones. And I'm not lending you any!" she said. One of the others tapped her shoulder.

"Let's go before they can convince my mother," he said, and all three took off. They spread out far from each other and kept a steady pace, using the pole to gather speed, never lifting the feet from the ice.

Peter and Wade watched them disappear towards the horizon. Gunnlod looked at the heroes with a small, proud twitch of a smile, and walked away.

 

"Tcha! Kids these days!" Wade said. " You wouldn't have caught ME being brave, skilled and stubborn, no sireee. I don't know what has gotten/ will get/ did once got into the young generation."

"Douglas Adams said the hardest part about time travel was the grammar." Peter said. Wade had snuck up to put his arms around Peter again.

"Well, he was wrong. The hardest part about time travel is ME!" Wade said, emphasising the last word with a small thrust of his hips against Peter's butt.

"Stop that!" Peter said, with a mock serious tone. "We still need to fix my hair."

"Oh, I was done ten minutes ago. I continued just for the hell of it." Wade said, put his nose into Peter's now back-slicked locks and inhaled deeply.

"Wade …"

"Mm-mm?"

"Well, I'll just leave you two to it, then, shall I?" Signhild said behind them. She had a birch twig in her hands. She mumbled something in a low voice, broke the twig into eight pieces, threw them down and ground them with her heel. Wishing the kids a safe journey, presumably. She gathered up some left-over clothes and walked away.

 

Peter was blushing. He had forgotten she was there. Wade started walking backwards with Peter in his arms, opening the door to the boathouse with one hand behind his back, and ducking in under it pulling Peter with him. Wade stumbled in and landed sitting on an upside-down turned boat with Peter in his lap. The room smelled strongly of tar, but Wade's nose was so full of Peter that he hardly noticed. It was not a house for living in, and rays of sunlight came in through cracks between the timbers of the walls. Wade held Peter tight in his arms, pressing his cheek against his back. He felt Peter's belt and unbuckled it so he could slip his hands under his tunic and caress his spandex-covered chest. Peter pulled the tunic off over his head and Wade felt as if the sunlight warmed him to the bone. Petey was undressing – for him!

He stroked Peter's body downwards, spreading his fingers to cover as large an area as possible, going down on the outside of Peter's thighs. Wade was zooming in on the part of Spider-Man that was the hardest to get to at the moment since he was sitting on it, but Wade worked his hands in under the butt to feel the bounciness.

"Gods, Spidey, your ass is amazing." Wade mumbled against his shoulder.

"I thought you called me Peter when I had my mask off?"

"Your ass is still in costume." Wade said.

"That can be helped." Peter said, and stood up with his feet on the boat on each side of Wade's legs, his costumed ass right above Wade's face. He found the seam between the upper and lower part of his costume, and lowered the lower part. Half an inch at a time, he bared his ass to Wade until the trousers rested at the top of the thighs.

"Oh Petey." Wade swallowed. "Can I bite it? Please tell me I can bite it a little bit?"

"Sure." Peter said. Wade's pleading voice was getting him hotter. Wade grabbed Peter's hips and brought the object of desire closer to his face, and he started by licking it. Peter had to bend his legs a bit for Wade to reach, and that was not a comfortable position. Peter shot some web up to the roof beams and hung from that, not putting any weight on his feet. Wade had started nibbling now, and Peter's skin responded by getting goose bumpy all over his body. He moaned.

"Do that again." Wade said.

"Do what?" Peter asked. Wade bit his ass cheek and Peter moaned again.

"That." Wade said. His hands moved up and down, stroking Peter's hips, until one of them came around to the front and found Peter's cock uncomfortably stuck under the top of the trousers. He pulled at the elastic and the cock sprung free, smacking against Peter's stomach.

"Je-Zeus, Petey, you have to let me taste that. Please, please let me taste that." Wade begged. Hanging from the webbing, Peter turned around effortlessly with his cock nearly smacking Wade's ear from the side. Wade was breathing heavily, his hot breath sifting through Peter's brown pubic hair. And then he got to taste him. Wade took Peter's cock against his tongue and licked the slit. The scent and the tang rushed to his head and he pushed the cock into his mouth, hearing Peter moan with more vibrato than last time. He put his legs over Wade's shoulders, but instead of resting on them, he let his feet stick to the wall behind Wade. Wade knew he was rushing things, and he would have loved to do this for hours and hours, but he couldn't help himself. He took out his own cock and grabbed it, his own moan muffled by Peter's throbbing shaft. He let up for a second to speak, while he still had his vocal cords intact.

"Fuck me, Peter, fuck my throat, give it to me hard."

Peter repositioned his web strands, and he was now curled around Wade's head in a way that gave him leverage to put his strength into each thrust. Wade had no control over the speed or the depth, he could just sit there and take it. He wanted to take so much of it. He relaxed and let Peter down into his throat, as far as he could go, and used both his hands to pull at his own cock. He knew fully well that regardless of whether he stroked his own cock or not, he would come when Peter did. He didn't know how, but he knew he would.

The smell of tar would be a turn-on for him, from this day and always.

Wade had been right. The second Peter's whine changed to a low growl, his muscles clenched and he came, so did Wade. And it was the taste of Peter's seed that did it.

*********************

Skate bones and pole from [forntidateknik](http://www.forntidateknik.z.se/IFT/MNTarb/2002/islaggar/islaggar.htm).

*********************

[ ](http://s36.photobucket.com/user/Four-Nostril/media/2017_01_08_fournostril_zpsymirfnc1.jpg.html)

***************

Art by [XEBREDIPS.](http://xebredips.tumblr.com/)


	13. The Little Spoon

 

When they got out of the boathouse, it was time for the noon meal. This was usually a soup of some kind. The heroes were always eager to get a meal in the cold weather, and it wasn't like they could go for take-away or pop down to the corner 7-eleven. When Peter and Wade came in, most of the others were already seated at the table. They swung their legs over the long bench and took their usual places. Signhild was setting the table, which was simply to put a bowl and a spoon in front of everyone. When she came to Peter, she gave him a bowl and a spoon, but then looked like she reconsidered. She took the spoon back and replaced it with another one. Giggles were heard from all the others.

"What's so funny?" Peter asked Torbjörn, who was sitting across the table from him.

"She gave you a smaller spoon." Torbjörn answered.

"Yes, but what does that mean?"

"Oh. Well, she is implying that you are the little spoon." Torbjörn said, and then lowered his voice and leaned in so Peter could hear him. "She means you take it like a woman."

When he heard that, Wade reached over, took Peter's smaller spoon and started eating his own soup with it. The giggles turned to hooting laughter, and the women started throwing spoons of all sizes at Peter, Wade, Signhild, Torbjörn, and each other.

 

Gunnlod came in through the door. Everything went quiet. A spoon landed in front of her feet. She looked angry, and picked it up.

"Whose spoon is this?" Gunnlod asked.

"That depends." The tall woman with the birthmark said, barely containing her mirth. "Is it a big one?"

The laughter that broke out was so loud it scared the chickens perching on the roof beams, which increased the noice even further. This time, Gunnlod did nothing to stop it.

 

**********************

The merriment at noon could not last long. Everybody was anxious about the skaters, both for the news they could bring and for their safety. Peter and Wade saw many surreptious little ceremonies being carried out. It didn't look like praying, more like the stuff athletes did before big games. Torbjörn was different and did nothing. When Peter asked him about it, he said that the children had only been gone three hours and it was much too early to worry the gods. That might even anger them.

 

Torbjörn did nothing that day. Signhild used up at least a dozen twigs.

 

Torbjörn did nothing the next day.

 

The mood was tense, and there was always somebody down on the jetty as a lookout. It was late afternoon and dusk was approaching. Gunnlod had told the children not to stay away for two nights and while she couldn't be accused of fretting, she went outside to look more often than necessary.

When it was evening, Torbjörn asked two slaves to arrange a platform for him, facing the sea. They built a small podium of wood and covered it with pelts, and they made a small fire in front of it. Torbjörn went to his own house and changed his clothes, and walked over to the small platform. He sat down and was quiet. Everybody had come to listen. Torbjörn took out a pouch and poured out a collection of amber and ivory discs on the pelt in front of him. He placed his fingertips on three of the discs and kept them there. Peter and Wade stood at the back of the small crowd, unsure about the proper behaviour at a time like this. Is was such a tense moment that Wade didn't even fondle Peter's butt even though it was right beside him. Torbjörn looked up and took a deep breath to start the reciting.

"There they are." Torbjörn said, and pointed. A small dot of light could be seen far away in the dark. He scooped the discs back in the pouch and asked the slaves to dismantle the platform. He went back to his house but the others ran down on the ice.

 

It was a long wait before the small dot of light revealed itself to be three separate torches, but eventually the three youngsters were ushered indoors and treated to chamomile tea with honey and praise from all sides. There was good news and bad news. The bad news was that the ice was solid all the way down past "The Rooting", wherever that was, but it was obviously further than they had imagined. The good news was that they had seen the ships. The two of them had been spotted by the children as they had climbed high up, and the ships had come as far north as the open water could carry them. The sails had been rolled up and there had been smoke from a small fire on the shore. The children were of the opinion that the viking crew had made camp, waiting for the ice to break so they could sail home. They had lit a fire of their own to signal and seen the campfire double in size for an answer.

All they could do was wait.

**********************

 

 

  
  
[Ny Björn Gustafsson SHMM](http://www.historiska.se/data/?bild=311096)

Small spoon from Stockholm Historical Museum


	14. Finally Some Vikings in this Viking Fic

**********************

The next morning, Peter was making the bed as usual and Deadpool walked outside for his morning piss. He followed the tracks of the watchdogs to see where they had been pissing so he could use the same spot, reasoning that they lived here and a guy could trust the locals to know the best places. This morning, it turned out to be the corner of a crate behind the brewing house. Deadpool had melted a large yellow-fringed cavity in the snowdrift when he became aware of noises from inside the building. It was clanging, wood breaking, and foul language obscured by the walls. Instantly going into fight mode, Deadpool drew a weapon and put his back to the wall, listening closer. There were more sounds of breaking but only the voice of one person. He slipped around the corner to the closed door and tried to open it without a sound, but the leather hinges were stiff from under use and it creaked. The noise inside stopped immediately. Figuring he was already detected, Deadpool looked in through the door. Gunnlod was there alone. She was standing at a table, calmly gathering wooden splinters that were strewn across the table. Her movements were precise and mannered, but the falling agitated dust in the air around her betrayed her secret. Deadpool holstered the weapon, stepped in, and closed the door behind him. He walked over to the table where she stood and sat down on the corner of it.

"Blowing off steam?" Deadpool asked.

Gunnlod gave him an annoyed glance.

"Fine, okay, I know, wrong reference. You would think that steam-engine metaphors would be less ingrained in a guy like me but all sorts of things pop up. Can I say that I approve of your anger management technique? I could use some of that myself now and then. One time I … wow, that bucket never knew what hit him, huh?" Deadpool said, watching Gunnlod throw the remains of a wooden bucket on the pile of firewood. She brushed away the last of the splinters. Deadpool kept babbling.

"Never been in this house before, ya know. Seasonal use, like the boathouse? You've got some weird stuff in here though." he said, gesturing at a large gathering of vessels. "And what's with the hot tub?"

There was indeed a thing that resembled a hot tub in the middle of the room.

"That is for brewing." Gunnlod said, finally speaking. "Please don't touch the inside of it, that's women's work only."

"Seems to me that a lot of stuff lately has been women's work only." Deadpool said. "The whole winter, amiright? ♪♬Workin' nine to five, what a way to make a livin' Barely gettin' by, it's all takin' and no givin'♪♬"

"I'm just tired." Gunnlod said with a sigh.

"Understatement of the week."

"If the winter would only end soon. If the ships could come back … on the other hand, we have no food for them when they return. It will probably be two more weeks before the ice breaks up. I don't even have the grain to make a batch of beer."

"Is that important?" Deadpool said, playing with one of the kegs with his feet.

"Yes."

She didn't elaborate, and Deadpool didn't want to push the conversation. She looked as if she already regretted admitting she was tired. Deadpool lifted the keg with his feet, tossed it in the air and caught it again as it came down. Gunnlod sternly put a hand on his knee, took the keg with the other and scolded him.

"[Byggvir](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Byggvir) deserves respect."

"Lady, you deserve respect."

Gunnlod didn't answer him. She put the keg back in its designated place. Deadpool heard children shouting outside.

"They are coming! They are coming! They are pulling the ships over the ice!"

 

*******************

 

Deadpool ran outside and saw Spider-Man scurry up on the roof, so he climbed after him. He squinted at the reflected sunlight and could make out two blurry dark shapes in the distance.

"Can they DO that?" Deadpool asked Spider-Man.

"I guess so. The ships have no keel and the wind is coming from the south. Still, it must be hard work."

"Fucking finally! I don't give a hoot about keeping super powers secret anymore, you and me are gonna help out. Strap on!" Deadpool said.

"Kinky." Spider-Man said.

"Oh NO there was totally a space between the 'strap' and the 'on' and you heard it!" Deadpool said and slid down the snowy roof. He bribed the kids with letting them use the smaller of his knives until he got back, and got some bone skates for himself and Spider-Man.

 

After some quick practice and with a still healing tailbone fracture, the two heroes were off. Crossing the ice on a sunny spring day, fed and clothed, and with a clear goal in sight, turned out to be a very different experience from their first night. The speed was intoxicating, the ice like a never-ending dance floor of brightness and glare.

*******************

It took Spider-Man and Deadpool over an hour of skating to reach the ships, which included time off for re-adjusting skate bones, losing the pole and going back to pick it up, and plain falling down. Still, it was a lot faster than walking the distance. The seafarers, about a dozen to each boat, were pulling the ships with ropes around their shoulders. The boats were leaning slightly to starboard, their sails furled. The heroes could hear a rhythmic heave-ho that came to an end when they were spotted. The Vikings looked at the two approaching skaters and dropped the ropes. They were hot from the hard work, bareheaded and sweaty even in the cold morning air. They carried no weapons and some of them had even removed their tunics. As the skaters came closer, the Vikings reached over the railings to unhook the shields and grab their axes. Deadpool and Spider-Man were speedily skating straight into two dozen raised weapons.

 

"Whoa whoa whooooooaaaaaaa!" Deadpool shouted, desperately trying to stop. He slid sideways and collided with Spider-Man, which effectively stopped them both. When they picked themselves up from the ice the other men had formed a shielded wall.

 

"We come in peace!" Deadpool yelled.

"Actually, we wanted to help you with the boats." Spider-Man added.

******************


	15. Homecoming

****************

From the middle of the crowd, one man came forward. Older than forty years, with a strong build and a little chubby, but his most prominent feature was a scar on the left side of his head. It was huge and he was missing a large part of his hair, one ear, and parts of the beard on the cheek. The scar looked old and it was framed with black tattooed patterns.

 

"We don't know you." He said. "Why do you have masks?"

"I keeps the helmet from chafing. Plus, it totally brings fear into the hearts of brave men. Present company excluded, of course." Deadpool said.

"We are Gunnlod's new berserks." Spider-Man said.

"What, so NOW you're okay with the job description?" Deadpool said to Spider-Man.

"How can we know this is true?" The Viking said.

"Gunnlod is pregnant!" Spider-Man said.

"The thul is named Torbjörn!" Deadpool said.

 

The Viking captain did not look convinced. He stepped closer and pointed his sword at them.

"These things are easy for anyone to know. How can I know you have been staying there as friends, and not burned the place down and killed everyone?"

"What sort of monster would do that?" Spider-Man asked. Deadpool nudged him with his elbow. It was possible this bunch of men had done things like that.

"Oh! Uh, okay. The dogs are named Gere and Freke, and Freke is the lazy one." Spider-Man said.

"Truth!" Someone said from behind the shields.

"Signhild likes to take ice baths, Desdemona doesn't." Deadpool said. Some of the Vikings nodded. The captain lowered his sword a bit.

"The brown-and-black hen is a bit stupid and always lays her eggs where the goats can step on them."

"The largest of the benches has a wobbly leg."

"Torbjörn is really picky about his beard."

"Sigyn pulls her own hair when she masturbates."

"WHAT?" Spider-Man said. "How do you know that?"

"I don't always sleep very well." Deadpool said, and shrugged.

 

The man in front of them moved his sword to his shield arm and stretched out his hand to them.

"You have convinced us. My name is Torfinn, and I am Gunnlod's husband."

"Deadpool"

"Spider-Man"

The strangest thing about this place was that nobody ever questioned that those were their real names.

 

***************

 

Peter felt great about putting his spider-powers to good use. They had been handed a rope each, on separate boats, and could pull hard. Since there were so many men pulling, nobody noticed that it was a bit too easy. If anyone did, they probably thought it was just themselves slacking off. After two hours, they could see the smoke from the village. After three hours, they could see the houses. The Vikings were singing and taking no breaks. After three and a half hours, the dogs came running. Ten of the men threw themselves in a big huddle around the jumping, yapping huge hounds to hug and pet them. The others took a break. Spider-Man asked them about it, and it turned out that the whole group was not from the one village. The others came from a few other farms close by, which were not prosperous enough to send out ships. They had bought shares in the trip in order to join and would go home later.

 

As they got closer, children now came to meet them on skates, which called for more hugging breaks. Torfinn gathered three of them (his own, most likely) to his sweaty chest at the same time and refused to let go. The pulling of the boats was a lot less efficient now, with all the distractions. Peter took off his mask and put his back into it, and it felt exhilarating. Deadpool managed to sneak him ropes to both boats without anybody seeing it. The Vikings still didn't notice something was odd, but rather taking the credit themselves.

"That's it, men! Not much further now!" Torfinn shouted.

If not for Peter and Wade, it would have taken another hour to go all the way, but soon the boats were left to rest on the ice next to the jetty.

 

********************

Gunnlod was standing outside the main hall, waiting. Behind her were the slaves and old Halvdan. Torfinn ran up the path, kneeled in front of her and took her hand.

"Is this still my home?" he asked.

"This is your home."

"Is this still my wife?"

"This is your wife."

"Is this my child?" he asked.

"Hey, don't look at me! She had a bun in the oven long before this baker came to town!" Deadpool said. Peter elbowed him in the ribs.

" _Don't ruin the moment!"_ Peter whispered.

"This is your child."

"I was afraid, so afraid, that we would find everyone dead. From attack, starvation or cold. How many have died while we were gone?" Torfinn asked.

"Hronn died before the winter even started." Gunnlod said.

"Well, that was only to be expected."

"And with you, have many have died?" Gunnlod asked.

"Only one, and Rögnvald lost a hand." Torfinn said. One of the Vikings listening raised his stump in a proud gesture. Peter was surprised no one mentioned the name of the man who had died on the trip, but assumed this was not the time to ask about it. The whole conversation felt ceremonial.

"Was it worth it?" Gunnlod asked. It appeared that Torfinn had been expecting the question, and he waved to one of the other men. He came up to Torfinn and handed him a wrapped object. Torfinn unwrapped a large stiff gold necklace and handed it to her.

"This, and twenty times this, is my share."

Gunnlod accepted the necklace and held it in her hands but in spite of the heavy gold she looked a bit sad.

"Then we will starve in splendour."

"Actually …" Torfinn said, and his voice was different. He looked like he broke character or spoke outside the script. "Actually, since we were stuck on the French coast for a month, we did some trading and stocked up a bit. We had to have provisions for ourselves while we made camp and we got such great deals that we overdid it a bit. The boats are stocked to the tipping point."

"You …"

"We've got food, is what I'm saying."

 

*************

*************

Gold collar from [Stockholm Historical museum](http://historiska.se/utstallningar/guldrummet/).


	16. Party Like It's 999

*************

Smiling Gunnlod was a person the heroes had never seen before. And if she was different, it was nothing compared to how different the village looked. With twice the amount of people and four times the activity, the whole place seemed warmer. The icy narrow paths were soon trodden to wide stretches of mud. The ships were unloaded under Gunnlod's and Torfinn's joint supervision, where he said what was in the urn, sack or casket, and she said where it should go. The crew jumped back and forth from the ships to the shore, and the slaves and women stored the goods according to Gunnlod's shouted instructions.

"Dried meats, three bags."

"One to the main hall and two to the store house."

"Eight large sacks of grain."

"Seven of them to storage, one to the brewing house."

"Dried apples and currants."

"Storage."

"Bread. No holes to hang them up."

"Take it to the main hall."

"Eighty-something amphorae of wine."

"Bring it all inside."

"All of it?" Torfinn asked. She nodded.

"Yes, it should be present for the gods to see." Gunnlod said. Torfinn smiled at her.

"Are we inviting the gods, then?"

"I can not think we will ever have a better occasion than this."

 

***********

Not everything was food, of course. The rest of the loot – Peter wasn't sure how much was stolen and how much was traded or earned – was put aside for the time being. The Vikings had had plenty of time on the boat to bicker over the division of it, so that was all settled and done. Torfinn came up to Peter and Wade.

"These gold rings are for you men, as a token of my gratitude. My home is in better standing than I expected because you were here." Torfinn said, and handed them two heavy armbands each.

"You don't have to …" Peter started, but thought better of it. Accepting gifts gracefully was also good manners.

"Ohhh, pimptastic!" Wade said, and jingled them around his wrist.

 

A Viking with a brown beard that was cut in a rectangular shape walked past them and came up to Torbjörn. He carried a large bundle in his arms.

"Torbjörn, my brother! What have you been doing the whole winter long?" He said.

"Getting rich, wise and famous. Fucked your wife. What else?" Torbjörn answered.

"Ha ha! You never change, brother. But I got something for you." The man unwrapped the bundle, and showed Torbjörn an ornamented covering with two handles sticking out the end. "This is for reading on. They got really pissed when I took it, so it's probably good."

"Those are torah scrolls!" Peter said, shocked. Torbjörn accepted the bundle and gave his brother a hug.

"Torbjörn, those are holy objects!" Peter said, still amazed to see them and rather upset to know they had been stolen.

"Yes?" Torbjörn said.

"They belong in a temple!" Peter said.

"I will not treat them with disrespect." Torbjörn said calmly. Peter looked at him. It was true, the thul had great respect for anything written and/or sacred. There wasn't much to do but leave them with him. Torbjörn carried the scrolls to his house. Wade grabbed Peter's hand.

"Come on, baby. Let's help them get the party started!"

 

**********

 

The main hall had undergone a transformation that was part due to the fact that winter was over and part due to the need to hold a celebration. All the animals except the dogs were gone, moved to a barn that had been boarded up during the cold months. The floor was swept clean. Many of the cots along the walls were now sitting benches instead, with tables in front of them. Three other houses were now fitted for sleeping, and the slaves were ordered to supply them with plenty of firewood and to put fresh straw in the cots. Old Signhild was in charge of the cooking, and taking her job seriously. 'Inviting the gods' was not just a figure of speech, either. Five large statues carved from logs had appeared, Peter and Wade had no idea from where, and they stood looming at the end of the hall, opposite the throne. Torbjörn came in and went over to check on the gods' positions. The big wine amphorae were stacked in a huge pile against the wall close to them. Peter stayed with Torbjörn to ask about the statues while Wade was asked to help hang oil lamps from the rafters. He was balancing on a peg in the wall when he heard Peter's voice.

"What do you mean, we have to perform something at dinner? I'm not in show business!"

 

**********

Torbjörn had not been joking. Any Viking – or strange foreign berserk – was also a poet. The crew had been preparing and practicing tales of their journey and would sing or declare them. Parables and paraphrases, especially if they [referred](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenning) to old sagas, were considered an important merit, and a good simile could be worth gold.

 

The feast was now starting, but the nature of it was not as rowdy as Wade had expected. It started in a most orderly fashion, with everyone seated and the tables empty. Torfinn came in and took his seat, which had been empty for Wade's and Peter's entire stay. Wade had actually sat on it once when he was alone – he was never one to bow to authority – just to see if it was magic and would make him king or something. It hadn't. When Torfinn was seated, Gunnlod came over to him with a huge drinking horn made of glass. It was filled to the brim, and she carried it across the room with a gait and grip so steady that not one drop ran over the side. Wade, who could mess up the entire front of his suit even when drinking a Capri-sun, was impressed. He glanced at Peter who looked adorably nervous about being called upon to entertain. Once Torfinn had his wine, the tables were quickly set all around the hall and each guest got his own horn, also full. Torfinn rose.

 

"A toast!" Torfinn said.

"A TOAST!" everybody answered in unison.

"A toast to our dead. We drink for those who went to Valhalla before we had the chance. This morning, they came to help us."

"YES!" everybody except Wade and Peter answered.

"This morning, our dead came down to us and helped us pull our ships in. Did you feel their presence? Did you feel how twenty men pulled those ropes besides us?"

"YES!"

"Those were our friends, and we thank the allfather, the eagle-keeper, the wrathmaker, for giving them leave to come to us. Ask the gods to drink with us."

Wade was tempted to point out that it had been him and Spidey, almost all Spidey, and only the feeling that it would ruin the reception of his performance stopped him. He wanted the audience on his side. Torfinn wrapped up his speech and everybody drank. Wine was also poured over the statues, staining them red. There was no way to put the horn down, so you had to either finish the wine or hold on to it. The man who was Torbjörn's brother stood in the middle of the room now, between the tables, and recited a long, rhymed poem describing the first part of their journey. Wade wasn't sure if it was good or not, and the man had the disadvantage of competing with the serving of the food. When he was finished, he got some cheers but he didn't seem to mind the lack of a standing ovation and happily sat down to eat. Wade decided this was a good act to follow, so he emptied his horn and jumped over the table. When he had caught the attention of the crowd he spoke.

 

"Now, I understand it is customary to recite a bit of poetry. Well, if I'm a poet, I didn't kno et. But I made this limerick for you all.

 

_There once was two guys from New York_

_that popped through a hole like a cork._

_We looked for work_

_and went berserk,_

_the merc with the mouth and a dork."_

 

The crowd laughed and seemed to like it, even if Wade secretly suspected nobody fully appreciated the fact that he had used york-cork-work-dork which was funny because they LOOK like they should rhyme but they DON'T but in this way they were still in the right place. He would have to explain it to Peter later to get the praise he felt it deserved.

 

"Thank you, you're a great audience. Just one more little thing. Hey, how do you spell Odins name?" Wade pointed at the old man.

"I dunno?" he shrugged.

"With one 'eye'!"

 

Confused silence.

Then roaring laughter. Even Peter laughed.

*************

 

 

 

 

  
[ ](http://www.historiska.se/data/?bild=332206)  
[Christer Åhlin SHMM](http://www.historiska.se/data/?bild=332206)

 Glass drinking horn, probably of Middle European origin, at Historiska Museet, Stockholm.


	17. Another Drink, Another Guest

Wade sat back down and Peter hugged him tight.

"You're the BETS, Wade! Beast! I mean best!" Peter said. His ears were pink.

"Are you getting tipsy, Webby?" Wade said.

"Maybe. If you want to put the horn down, you can't because it has a pointy bottom. If you want to lay it down, you have to drink up first, and look here what happens when you do that." Peter said, laying his horn down on the table and put his head low, close to the surface of the table like he was observing some strange shell. The slave Desdemona came over and refilled it and handed it to him.

"See! They're like those waitresses that always comes around to top up your glass in a restaurant, except there you can leave the glass undrunk if you want. Is it my time to shine now, you think?" Peter said, gesturing to the hall.

"If you wait, you'll just be even more drunk. Go get 'em!" Wade said, and held Peter's horn for him. Peter slid down under the table and crawled out on the floor between the long tables in a rather undignified manner.

"Okay, I'm even less of a poet than Wade is, so this will not be my own work. But I know this song from a bard named Jimmy Buffet. My aunt used to hum this while cleaning, and I think you can relate. It's called [_Boats to Build_.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaCtloljfzs)

 

It's time for a change

I'm tired of that same ol' same

The same ol' words the same ol' lines

The same ol' tricks and the same ol' rhymes

Days precious days

Roll in and out like waves

I got boards to bend I got planks to nail

I got charts to make I got seas to sail

 

I'm gonna build me a boat

With these two hands

It'll be a fair curve

From a noble plan

Let the chips fall where they will

'Cause I've got boats to build

 

Sails are just like wings

The wind can make 'em sing

Songs of life songs of hope

Songs to keep your dreams afloat

 

I'm gonna build me a boat

With these two hands

It'll be a fair curve

From a noble plan

Let the chips fall where they will

'Cause I've got boats to build.

 

Peter's singing was approved of, probably mostly due to his enthusiasm and the ship theme. He was making grand gestures and sang with vigour. His new armbands jangled. Wade wanted to rest his chin on his hands and make heart eyes at Peter but holding the horns stopped him. The song wasn't long and when Peter was finished he took a bow and left the stage. The man who took over after him scoffed at the brief performance and threw himself into a long alliterated piece that contained so many compound similes that the heroes had no chance to catch all the references. Torbjörn, on the other hand, seemed to appreciate it more. The verses went on and on, but the party kept going on around it. More food was served as soon as it was cooked, and the gods were given their own portions. They were not served equal amounts. Most notably, the statue with the hammer had been given a much larger bowl. They were also gifted with scarves, belts, jewellery, and someone stuck a boiled egg into the empty eye socket of Odin in what was hopefully not a sacrilegious gesture. Wade was torn between using both hands for eating as much as possible or keeping one arm around Peter at all times.

 

There was a knock on the door. Wade and Peter sat with their backs towards it and didn't see who opened it nor who came in. Peter was busy trying to construct a horn holder from stacked pork bones and Wade was busy eating pork to provide the bones his darling needed. Old Signhild directed a man to their table.

"A guest brings good fortune, sit here and be welcome." Signhild said. A large man sat down on the bench next to Wade. He was covered – almost hiding – in a scruffy brown blanket thrown over his head as a hooded cape. He nodded gratefully and sat hunched like a poor man, but the armour on his arms was visible and glittered in the light from the fires. When his food arrived, he pulled the blanket from his head and smiled at Signhild. The old woman tried to keep a straight face but failed.

"Thank you, kind woman, for letting a poor wanderer in." He said.

"Poor. Yes. Wanderers are welcome here." Signhild said. She gave him a horn of wine and rushed over to Gunnlod at the other end of the hall. Wade spoke with a bone sticking out of his mouth.

"Thor?"

 

*********

Wade was staring at the first familiar face he had seen in almost a month. Thor had already finished his first horn of wine and when Desdemona came to refill it, she had obviously been instructed by Signhild or even Gunnlod to bring a bigger, much fancier horn. Thor didn't seem to notice that he had been recognised and still considered his disguise clever. He whispered to Wade.

"Shhh, oh Pool of Death. Call me Magne, for I am here in disguise." Thor said, and then realised something. "Pool of Death and the Man Spider? Are you here?"

Not until now did Peter notice him and toppled his horn stand out of surprise.

"YOU FOUND US!" Peter yelled.

Thor looked confused and a bit embarrassed. At the other end of the hall, Gunnlod and Torfinn were discussing something with Torbjörn, who appeared to be very firm in his opinion if his facial features were to be trusted. The poetry reciting was still ongoing. The recognition of the new guest's identity spread across the hall from one person to the next but nobody said anything. Peter was sure that if they had had smartphones, they would have been snapping secret selfies-with-celebrity right now. But when Thor looked up, everybody glanced away and looked busy. If a god shows up and pretends to be someone else, it's best to play along. Torbjörn resumed his seat.

"In truth, I did not come here to look for you." Thor said.

"Then . . . then why are you here?" Peter said.

"I could tell there was an epic feast going on. I would not want to miss it." Thor said. He pointed at the statue of himself, drenched in wine.

"But . . . but . . . aren't the avengers looking for us?" Peter said, with a pout.

"Verily, they are. The Iron Man is searching for you in every corner of your world with his machines, and he is certain he will find you soon. He, as well as the others, are worried. You have been gone three days. While they were searching, I waited. And while I waited, I came here." Thor said.

Peter was stunned. _Three days? Had they only been missing for three days?_ That meant aunt May was not worried yet, he had not missed any deadlines, and New York crime had not gone unpunished for long. It was a relief.

"So, Magne, my new friend that I have never seen before!" Wade said. "Do you plan to go to New York any time soon? And if so, could we get a ride? Please pick up hitchhikers."

 

*********

 

Peter was drunk and happy. Thor had told them he had arranged for Heimdall to allow him passage in twelve hours. The party raged on, becoming more and more disorganised and rowdy. The most popular poem of the evening had inspired a small choir of Vikings to repeat it in a more singing fashion, and they sat on a bench by themselves like a barbershop quartet. There had been an improvised axe target toss contest outside, which had ended with a sudden need for treatment of profusely bleeding head wounds and Signhild's advice that they should settle it when they were sober. Thor was telling Torbjörn a story of when he, Magne, once saw the mighty Thor defeat some frost giants. Torbjörn was all ears of course, and didn't even give the game away when Thor forgot to speak in third person. He would have taken notes but didn't dare to leave to get his tools. His eyes were glued on Thor so he wouldn't miss a word.

Couples kept disappearing and coming back with straw in the hair a while later. Nobody was having public sex, but there were lots of kissing and groping followed by giggling and sudden departures. Torbjörn's brother had taken Peter's song apart and was trying to put it back together with proper metaphores.

"Boat. You can't just say 'boat' like that. _'Sails are just like wings'_ is something, at least. But 'boat' can be a lot better. _I'm gonna build me a . . . wooden swan_. _a seagull with bark._ " He was muttering.

Peter wasn't listening. He was sitting in Wade's lap. Wade was leaning back against the wall like Peter's personal lounge chair with massage function. The massage function was his hands, which he used to stroke every part of Peter's body. They were beyond giving a fuck about who saw them. They were going home tomorrow. Peter was still drinking because why not? Wade was stroking the inside of Peter's thighs slowly, like he would keep doing it all night. Peter twisted his spine around so he could kiss Wade. The oil lamps had burned out and the hall was darker. Wade cupped Peter's groin teasingly light and Peter moaned into Wade's mouth. Peter had more wine than spit in his mouth, and it was a hard, red, tannic wine that made his tongue feel rough like a cat's. Wade couldn't get enough of that tongue.

 

The door opened and Torfinn came in. They hadn't seen him leave but he must have been gone a while, seeing as how he was now undressed. It didn't seem to bother him that he only wore a small cloth around his hips and a pair of woolly socks. Now that his chest was bare, Peter saw that he had other scars than the one on the left side of his head. A particulary large one across the lower ribs had a line of black runes along it that didn't look like decoration but more like it was there to ward off further damage. Perhaps it was against pain. Peter understood better why Deadpool's scars had been less of a deal here, in an era without doctors.

Torfinn came up to the snuggling heroes.

"Gunnlod would like a word with you two." He said.

"Noooooooo I don't wanna!" Peter wailed. "Tonight is our last night here and she doesn't need to frown at us anymore. If she wants to yell at me she should do it tomorrow morning when I'll be hung over and miserable."

"She wants you to come to bed." Torfinn said.

"Say what?"

*********


	18. DP with DP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to spoil the plotline by tagging this but there is 'double penetration with pregnant lady' in this chapter.
> 
> It's beautiful.
> 
> Um . . . I've changed the rating to explicit.

***************

Wade and Peter followed Torfinn out from the party. As they passed Thor and Torbjörn, Wade knocked on Thor's shoulder.

"Don't sit here in the main hall, Magne. You should go with Torbjörn to his house so he can write your Thor story down. And maybe even hear him tell one of his own, he's got good stuff. Take an amphora with you!" Thor nodded in agreement and Torbjörn blushed from his beard to his eyebrows. The three men walked across the now sodden snow to one of the other houses. Peter was a bit unsteady.

"Torfinn, could you tell us what's the idea here?" Wade asked. "Is this, like, something in the fine print of the berserk contract that we didn't literally sign but still? An obligation? Just A Thing That's Done?"

"No. You don't have to. It's just . . . she needs more and I could only go twice. So I asked her what else I could do for her and she asked me to go get you two." Torfinn said.

"And you're okay with this?" Wade asked. Torfinn laughed heartily and his beard braids jumped.

"I have been gone seven months. She is alive and still mine. Would I deny her anything? Could I?"

 

Torfinn showed them in. It was warm and dark, only some embers gave a slight glow. Gunnlod was sitting on a large bed covered with hides, and spoke as soon as they closed the door behind them.

"Dear guests, if I can explain . . . please understand that this is my only night of pleasure for some time. I will give birth very soon, I'm already overdue, and for the next three months I can not have any. Those are the old rules and I follow them. I didn't have any while my husband was away . . . "

"You could have." Torfinn said.

"But I didn't. I didn't have the time or energy to deal with any complications. But you two . . . you are good men. And you are leaving. Would you let me have this before you leave?"

Wade was about to answer but Peter beat him to it, slapping his hands on the table.

"IT'S A GREAT IDEA! Gunnlod, most generous hostess, I'm telling you that if you need dick, then Wade's got it. Like, you can't even imagine. This dude . . . " Peter hugged Wade from behind. "This dude's got the GOODS!"

"Peter, are you sure about this?" Wade said.

Peter turned Wade around by twisting Wade's hips in his hands and kissed him.

"Wade, I know I'm drunk. But only a good kind of drunk. I wouldn't miss this chance for anything. The nice lady needs dick, plenty of it. And we're heroes and should help her out, right? You an' me. Both. We should give it to her. I want to show you off 'cause you're amazing. And I want to see what Deadpool junior looks like in action before I take him on myself 'cause frankly I doubt my ability to handle him." Peter said.

"It's not gay if it's a 3-way." Wade said. "And you called me a hero."

"It's some gay tho." Peter said, pulling Wade's hips closer to his so he could let Wade feel the bulge under his spandex.

"All right, fine. I actually didn't need much convincing. Pregnant women are boner-sproutingly sexy. I've never had sex with a lady that pregnant. Plus my pervy side very much want to see you creaming her and telling me to lick it off. Can I say that and not be creepy?" Wade said.

"Nope."

"Fine, I can be creepy. How do we do this?"

 

The dim light made it less stressful for Wade to show some skin. Since he was the heaviest, he took the position of flat on his back on the bed. Gunnlod was sitting across his thighs and stroked his chest tentatively, as if worried that his scars and tumours were painful. Considering the way her husband had been wounded repeatedly, it was not surprising. Peter was behind her, kneeling between Wade's spread legs and massaging her shoulders. Wade was caressing her huge belly in large circles and then moved his hands up to her breasts. She made a slightly pained sound and moved his hands away.

"Sorry, they're over-sensitive and too tender at this time." Gunnlod said.

"I'll take it easy." Wade said, and touched them lightly. But it was still unpleasant for her and he took his hands away without her needing to ask again. Torfinn got up from his seat and walked over to a clothes chest at the other side of the room. He rummaged around in it and came back with a pair of large leather mittens. He turned them inside out so that the fur was on the outside and handed them to Wade.

"Try it with these. They're my best stoat fur mittens and I used them last time she was in this state." Torfinn said.

Wade put the mittens on and caressed her breasts with the soft fur. She gasped and let out a raspy moan, so Wade dared to continue. Her breasts felt full and heavy in his hands.

"Fuck, man. Your wife is so hot I needed oven mitts." Wade said.

 

Gunnlod scooted forward from Wade's thighs to his hips, letting her wet cleft slide along his hard length.

"Oh yeah, fuck, that's a soft bun for this foot-long hot dog." Wade groaned. Peter snorted against Gunnlod's neck.

"Wade, your dirty talk is the WORST."

"I found it a very poetic simile." Gunnlod said, panting lightly.

"See there, Petey. I'm good." Wade said. He reached down and grabbed his dick from where it pointed at his scarred navel and wrenched it upright. Gunnlod followed his movement and raised her hips.

"Now how about we sheath this sword to the hilt?" Wade said.

"Eh, that one is overdone." Torfinn said, but Gunnlod didn't let that stop her from following the suggestion. She spread her labia with her fingers and lowered herself only a little bit at first, letting the thick head of Wade's dick in. She stopped and gasped. Wade put his fur-covered hands on her thighs and encouraged her to go on down, and down, and down as far as it could go.

 

Peter was thinking that Wade had exaggerated, though. It was not a FOOT long.

 

Wade was fucking Gunnlod in long, slow thrusts. Their heavy breaths filled the room.

"I want some too!" Peter complained with a less than sober tone.

"I have something else for you to smooth her up." Torfinn said. He brought out a Greek pottery jar, low and wide, filled with an oily pomade. The decoration illustrated the intended use well. Peter looked closely at the foreign-looking vessel. Torfinn nodded.

*************

**************

Askos vessel from Kerameikos Museum, Athens


	19. The End

**************

"Well, I didn't spend two months in Greece for nothing." Torfinn said, and pulled the stopper. He leaned over the bed and poured a few drops of thick oil in the small of her back, and Peter watched as the drops travelled over her skin along the spine and all the way down. When the first small trickle reached her anus, Peter gestured to Torfinn to pour a little more. He greased up his fingers and let them slide up and down in the crack. He leaned close to Gunnlod to whisper in her ear.  
"Is Wade good?"  
"I . . . yes . . . oh!" Her voice was a whimper. Peter felt a shiver run down his spine. He stopped going up and down with his fingers and pressed a bit against her anus with his fingertip.  
"But surely there is room for one more?" Peter said, and slipped his index finger in. "You are always so welcoming to guests, generous hostess."  
He could feel Wade moving inside her. Torfinn poured more oil for Peter and he prepared her slowly and thoroughly but so eager to be done. When he finally was able to slide his dick in he heard Wade growl.  
"Oh shit OH SHIT fuck that's so freakin' hot. Oh god Peter, I can feel you fucking her."  
"Yes . . ." Peter felt light-headed. Every time Wade made a thrust in, he almost pushed Peter out. And when Peter pushed back in, he felt Wade slide out. The rhythm was devastating. Peter heard all sounds as if he was under water. Groans, whines and gasps, he had no idea whom they belonged to, or if they were perhaps his own. Through a haze, he noticed Gunnlod was climaxing, clenching hard around both of them. He heard Wade's voice, hoarse beyond recognition.  
"Oh fuck that's it, I'm coming, no stopping it. Watch this, Torfinn. I'm gonna come so hard up in here that your next three children will be mine."

*************

  
It was morning. The dogs were up and running, going from house to house and trying to find all the people they felt responsible for. It was a real treat for them that the humans wanted to play hide-and-seek. Whenever they found one, face licking took place until the person woke up and made at least one sound. The dogs were now trying to get into a house where they could hear snoring. The door was closed. They barked and whined, but no response came. Deciding that the door was preventing them from doing their job, the dogs managed to poke the door latch until they got it open. They entered in a flurry of wagging tails and got the jackpot. Four peoples!

Peter woke up from a tongue in his face. Unfortunately, it was not Wade's.  
"Oooooooohhhhhhhh shit, my head hurts." Peter said. "Let me sleep. Go away."  
Since all four persons were woken up and accounted for, the dogs ran out again. They did not close the door behind them.

A cold morning breeze on sticky naked skin. Peter tried to pull Wade over himself as a blanket.  
"Morning, sunshine." Wade said.  
"I'm dying." Peter answered.  
"I'll get some water." Gunnlod said. She was already half dressed. Her hair was a complete mess and she tied a scarf over it. Torfinn put a stopper in the oil askos.

When they stepped out, they saw the dogs leave Torbjörn's house. Shortly after, Torbjörn came out and after him came Thor, ducking under the low door. Peter saw him slap Torbjörn's ass and Torbjörn blushed when he saw them.

**************

  
The farewell was awkward. Peter was hung over and wished more than anything he could have slept for longer. Torfinn was trying to think of a way to say 'thank you for doing my wife' that didn't make him sound impotent. Gunnlod looked as if she wanted to give them hugs and something to eat on the way but not mother them too much. Torbjörn looked embarrassed and fangirly at the same time. Thor still insisted his name was Magne but nobody was buying it. And Wade . . .

They said goodbye and left, walking away from the village. Wade was uncharacteristically quiet. Would returning home mean returning to the way things were when they left? Sure, Peter had turned to Wade when they were stranded, but then he didn't have anyone else to turn to, did he? Last time they were in Queens Spider-Man never wanted to touch Deadpool unless it was for punching him.

*************

  
The three of them were walking down a busy street in central Queens, filled to the brim with pedestrians. Spider-Man looked at the worn-out knees of his suit, his frayed gloves, his nearly black boots. He glanced at Deadpool. His suit was not as badly worn, but Spider-Man saw the re-attached thumb of the glove, and the embroidered serpent on the shoulder. It felt as if they had been gone for a year. He smiled to himself.  
"So what do we do now?" Deadpool said. He was afraid Peter would say goodbye.  
"YOU go and get tacos, coffee and chocolate, I get aspirin, lice shampoo and lube, and we meet at my place in fifteen minutes!" Spider-Man gave Wade a peck on the cheek and ran to the closest drug store.

"I will report to The Iron Man that I, son of Odin, have returned you both safely." Thor said. Wade looked at him.  
"Before you go . . . do you know a god named Frey?"  
"Verily I have known him for a thousand years." Thor said.  
Wade hesitated, and then he unstrapped the katanas from his back, sheaths and all, and held them out to Thor.  
"Will you give him these, and say they're from me? I heard he gave his sword away a long time ago. Just … tell him to take good care of Bea and Arthur for me."  
"But why?" Thor asked.  
"Well … I owe him, I think. Big time. Now take them before I change my mind!" Deadpool said.  
"Such an offering would be ample pay for anything, indeed. Pool of Death, I know how dear these weapons are to you. Keep them, and let me tell Frey of this happening. Give me another gift to bring him." Thor said.  
"Really? I can keep them?" Wade hugged the swords tight to his chest. He looked at the window of a souvenier store, popped into the store for less than a minute, and returned with an oversized drinking cup with the "I <3 NY" logo. He handed it to Thor.  
"Do you think he will be cool with this?" Wade said.  
"Not with this, but with the tale I bring him." Thor said, and left. Wade fell to his knees and hugged his twin babies, saying he never would do such a thing to them again ever. He was still there when Peter returned from the drugstore.  
"Wade … please don't tell me it will take you seven months to return with the food?"

***************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. This story is now complete.  
> There is art for two chapters under production, though. After new years, I will revise the story from the beginning to iron out any plot holes or inconsistencies and add more detail (people DID ask for it). If you keep the story bookmarked you will be notified when the revision and art is done, because I will add a little epilogue chapter then.  
> Some minor characters that needs happy endings? If there is something special you want to see in the epilogue, you can suggest it.  
> Bye!


End file.
